Relinquish
by awordycontradiction
Summary: Stiles has loved Lydia since the third grade, and for eight years that has been enough for him, until now. Now, all he can think of is getting over her. He has a whole summer to do so.
1. Chapter 1

**This is sort of piggy-backing off of the last chapter of my three-shot, Hero...it isn't necessary to understand this one, in case you don't feel like reading that one.. I just have an urge to write more than a one shot... hope this one is better than my last attempt :) **

"Is this a joke?" Scott McCall stated blandly, emphasis on his cell phone wagging in his left hand while opening the passenger door to his best friends signature jeep with the other. Stiles Stilinski rolled his eyes. "Just get in, Scott." Scott chuckled while throwing his book bag into the back seat and sighing loudly into the air around them. "Rough day?" Stiles quipped, a knowing smile on his face. Scott glared while clicking his seat belt. "I don't know if I can take this for a whole summer. I mean, I think I'm the only one here that has to stay for the whole day." The werewolf whined. "Then you shouldn't have failed _three _classes." Stiles ticked, shoving his jeep into drive and getting the hell off school property. He was so thankful he wasn't joining his best friend. Summer school was a distant memory for Stiles, he stopped going the summer of sixth grade, once he figured out that it was more of a babysitting tactic to his parents than actually an educational experience for him."-and I mean, you're lucky Scott, they were really thinking of holding you back a grade. Imagine having to be in those classes again next year!" Stiles rambled. "Imagine having Harris _again_ next year." Stiles shuddered. "Stiles?" Scott mumbled. "Yeah?" "Are we going to keep talking about school _or _that text you sent me earlier?" Stiles frowned, a blush creeping up his neck. "I was hoping maybe more talk about school, Coach was really pulling for you there, isn't that great? Or- oh! How about Derek? How are those cult meetings going?" The sixteen year old teased and Scott found himself shaking his head. "Stiles, come on, did you mean that? 'Cause dude, you always say that and you never do it." The werewolf pointed out. "Yeah _dude_, I meant it." Stiles glared mildly. "-and for the record, I don't _alway_s say it. Just... just sometimes." "What brought this on?" Scott asked quietly.

Stiles licked his lips but didn't say anything. He had one hand securely on the wheel, the other tapping against his thigh. He really didn't want to fall into an abnormally lengthy rant about everything that had lead up to this moment, he didn't want to go all the way back to sixth grade when she made fun of him for the first time, and work his way into the present, to right now, when only a night before Stiles had finally taken his dad's offer to try out the new Italian restaurant in town. He knew that it wasn't healthy for the sheriff and that it would have just been better to order take out and watch the Mets. But no, he went out, probably for the first time with his dad since his mom died to a stupid restaurant and only spotted the one person he had been so successfully avoiding, until now.

Stiles' grip on the wheel tightened remembering how happy she looked. No more tears dripping like a leaking faucet down her face, smearing makeup and leaving her skin raw and puffy. It was like she didn't even know what the word agony meant let alone lived if for the better half of the school year. She was beautiful too, as usual, but last night she was looking extra special, and Stiles was quick to realize why. Jackson was with her. He joined Lydia and her father for dinner and they had looked so perfect, _too_ perfect on the opposite side of Mr. Martin in the large booth. They talked and laughed and looked genuinely happy, like Jackson hadn't been a lizard monster on a killing spree for months, like Lydia hadn't went out of her mind, not like they had_ ever _broke up. Stiles wanted to leave immediately, but the sheriff had one night off and he wanted to be there, with Stiles, enjoying himself. And of course Stiles would oblige, he would do anything for his father. So they were seated and ordered. Mr. Stilinski commented on how it was a sheer miracle that Mrs. McCall caught the signs and revived Jackson Whittemore from the dead; the sheriff had never heard of a _real _near death experience before, but he was _so_ happy for the boy. Stiles faked a smile and glared at the lacrosse captain over his water glass. It was a miracle after all.

It was around then that Stiles felt sick inside, he couldn't even finish his chicken Parmesan, he was fighting for someone who had turned the other way. It was like everything, all the pain and fear and rejection that he had bottled up inside, that he pretended was something else entirely broke through, rose to the surface and caused the young man's head to spin. Jackson kissed her, right there in the middle of a crowded restaurant, with her father sitting across from them, with Stiles watching. It was like a movie, Stiles couldn't look away if he tried, he gravitated towards the strawberry blonde, it had always been that way. They broke apart and Jackson smirked at Stiles, only tables away. That's why he did it, most likely, hearing the dinner conversation the Stilinski's discussed. Lydia was looking at Stiles and Stiles was looking back. Jackson was just trying to show Stiles that she wasn't his, that she wouldn't be. Sure she smiled at him across the restaurant, sure she even came up to the table to greet the father and son, but it meant nothing to Stiles, it was detached, void of any emotion that he cared to think of. She was never going to be his, and he was sick of trying so hard.

"So wanna get Italian for lunch? I'm starving." Scott broke through Stiles' haze. He sensed the boy wasn't going to talk about it, he just wished he opened up about this, about Lydia. A few weeks ago he had acted like nothing happened, that Lydia's love didn't wake the dead, _literally_. He acted like it wasn't even a set back and he was going to continue to pine after the girl. Sure, Scott loved his best friend's determination, and how big his heart was, but Scott didn't like the way Stiles was acting about it. If he liked her, he should have done something, and now she was with Jackson and things didn't seem to be slowing down for them. Honestly, talking about it or not, Scott was relieved that Stiles was starting to see it all for what it was. "No!" Stiles snapped, making Scott jump, something his best friend hadn't been able to do in so long. "No Italian, ever again. Not even pizza." Stiles commanded with a blanched look to his skin. "Okay?" Scott chuckled to himself at the random outburst, "What about some McDonald's?" He volunteered with a small smile. Stiles eyed his best friend sitting next to him and smiled appreciatively. "Perfect." Stiles made a right at the next street corner, comfortable silence followed.

Stiles came home to an empty house. He sighed while dropping his keys at the door. He was used to being alone, but it wasn't like the isolation didn't bother him. He made his way into the kitchen with a yawn. Scott had got Stiles' mind off of his stupid laps of judgment of texting him earlier by quickly starting up the much needed conversation about what Derek and his little pack prepared to do about all these new werewolves in town. Stiles felt relieved that first week of summer school when he was picking Scott up, seeing Erica leaving for the day too. He offered her a ride, the least he could do for abandoning her after getting his ass handed to him by an old man, but she refused with an appreciative blush and ran towards the woods. Scott wanted to talk to Allison, see what her father knew, but Stiles said it wasn't a good idea, agreeing for the first time in ages with Derek Hale. It was a pack of werewolves, it was officially a werewolf problem, and it wasn't like they had done anything yet. Stiles knew they were ominous, but no one but Boyd and Erica had seen them, and they hadn't remembered much from their time in the woods with the lot of them. Stiles went right for the fridge, his chicken nuggets from McDonald's not filling him earlier, and ignoring the nagging craving for some everything pizza. Stupid Italian food, he thought numbly while staring right through his carton of milk. He could even smell the chick parm from last night.. he was losing his mind. Shutting the fridge door with some force he decided on just going to bed, it was already eleven, and he was exhausted with the knowledge that nothing was being done to insure that these new werewolves in town weren't going to become a threat. It had been almost a month since he first heard of them and seriously, nothing. Scott had told Stiles that Derek was working pretty hard on keeping Jackson out of trouble since he became even more of an entitled dumb ass. Stiles couldn't say he was surprised. Seeing him the other night, smiling through Stiles like he had the god damn world, it sent a rush of anger through the sixteen year old. His stomach growled, he was now very much craving chicken parm. He wished he wasn't so stubborn and agreed to let the waitress wrap it up last night. Stiles frowned again, remembering the way Lydia looked at him while he was leaving, like she wanted to say something but chose against it. Maybe because Jackson had his arm draped over her, maybe because Stiles wanted space. It didn't matter, he was going to forget about her, if it was the last thing he did. He made his way through the arch that connected the dining room to the living room and found, sitting on the unused table a take out container from the Italian restaurant. Stiles furrowed his brows and walks towards it, a note sat right on top of the Styrofoam.

_'I am not a stalker, your father let me in on his way out. I saw that look on your face last night, I had no idea you would be there... Anyway, I don't know why you didn't eat this last night, it was so good! _

_I stole a bite._

_P.S. I'm going to make it really hard to not want to be my friend. Enjoy, Stiles. ' _

_-Lydia. _

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a smile that was dying to be shed. She was good, the girl was smart. It was like the conversation they had a few weeks ago, about how Stiles didn't want to feel like this anymore, that he wanted to get over her, never happened. It was almost like Lydia wanted Stiles to stay crazy about her. But that was probably Stiles thinking too much of this, just like he thought too much into Lydia sitting with his father watching him win that dumb lacrosse game. He left the dinning room and came back with a fork. He was officially craving Italian. He debated on texting her, to say thank you, to be polite, but somehow, Stiles knew that Lydia wouldn't mind not being contacted, she knew he needed space. After he ate this chicken parm and stayed up too late thinking about the meaning of her going through all the trouble of getting it for him, he would get over her. Stiles had all summer after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**So someone please tell me if the dialogue is hard to understand when I don't space it out... I'll gladly change it... my OCD just likes this way better... and thank you all for being supportive :) **

"One double shot espresso for the lady, and a tall decaf, hold the sugar for her adorable boyfriend." The tall, gorgeous red head stated with energy as she placed the steaming drinks onto the shiny black table in the low light cafe. Allison smiled up at the woman, she and Stiles had been coming to the small coffee shop for about a month now and the woman in her early thirties, Jo, refused to believe that they weren't dating. "No one comes for coffee _every_ other afternoon, as close as you two seem, and aren't together." She challenged the teens on one occasion. Stiles shrugged it off too, it was nice to be linked to someone else, even if Allison was his best friends ex girlfriend and he had never felt anything but friendship towards the werewolf hunter slash classmate. It was nice that someone didn't know him as the love sick puppy with tags to be returned to Lydia Martin. In the coffee shop, which Stiles had finally figured out the name of, _Cup of Jo's_, he and Allison didn't have to be anything more than themselves. Allison didn't have to redeem herself or feel apologetic every other second, like she would have if this was Scott or even Lydia sitting across from her; and Stiles didn't have to act like he knew all the answers, that he was handling everything just fine. Together, the teens were just that, teens. Jo, the fiery red head who doubled as owner and waitress was kind to them, calling them her favorite customers, and always gave them their privacy, after writing out their destiny as being the perfect couple.

Allison laughed again, something she rarely did, and something only Stiles seemed to experience. "She's crazy, huh?" Stiles nodded while taking a small sip of the steaming cup. He closed his eyes in satisfaction as the hot liquid slid down his throat. He was addicted. Allison mimicked him, wrapping her pale hands around the tiny glass cup. Despite the hot sun and beginning of summer, Allison kept her glowing, pasty color. Stiles smirked, and Allison looked at him with wide eyes. "Really? Again?" She asked, without having to be told a word, before taking the napkin under the glass and wiping at her upper lip. Stiles laughed quietly as she glared at him. "So, what's new? How was dinner with your father the other night? My dad wants to go there, is it any good?" Allison questioned folding the used napkin back up and placing it under the tiny white plate that accompanied the matching cup. Stiles frowned then, Allison realizing that it wasn't the highlight of his week, but what was lately? "It seems to be a great place for those sort of daddy kid dates doesn't it?" He muttered before taking another sip of his take out cup. "What happened?" Allison asked, leaning over the table slightly. "Nothing, nothing." He waved her off, "Just.. Lydia was there with her dad, and Jackson." He shrugged. "Oh" Allison frowned, her brown eyes swelling with sympathy. It was nice, after seeing the cold, distance hard pebbles that once completed her look, the warm brown hues of her eyes were always welcomed, but not needed. "It's fine." He shrugged. "But I made the decision. I'm getting over Lydia Martin if it is the last thing I do." Allison stared at her friend for a moment, even in the dark lighting it was easy to see how overcome he was, he loved Lydia and Allison was there to witness his heart shattering moment of realization along with the rest of his normal circle. It sucked, but this was a good thing. "Well I think that is a great idea, Stiles." The curly brunette smiled encouragingly at him. "Yeah?" Stiles mumbled weakly, "Because Scott didn't even believe me." Stiles' eyes widened. "Shit! Allison, I'm sorry, I know he's on the list of things not to discuss-" "It's fine, Stiles, really." But Allison didn't look up at him. "How.. How is he?" She asked after a moment of silence, bringing the cup back to her lips, trying to pass as indifferent. Stiles smiled at her, the corners of his lips turning up. "He's still Scott." The sixteen year old shrugged. "There is something going on though, I can feel it." His hands left the table and came to land in fists on his thighs. "Hey, Allison?" "No." Allison shook her head. He blinked at her. "Werewolves don't exist, remember? I don't want to hear about any of this." She had her hands held up in front of her, as if to protect her from the information she didn't want to know. Her voice had that timid whisper to it again, one that Stiles missed. She really was turning back into her old self. But it wasn't fair of him to ask, he was the one to tell Scott just a day ago not to ask her himself about what she and her father may or may not know. He knew she was trying desperately to get back to who she was, and Stiles didn't want to ruin that anymore than he wanted to ruin his own feeble sanity. If he could, he would stay ignorant, much like he had done for a few weeks.

It was nice, he wasn't going to lie, but it wasn't comforting. He hated not knowing what was going on, what _could_ happen, almost as much as he hated actually being apart of it. Allison was stronger than him in that regard, she took her chances in bliss, he couldn't stay a sitting duck. He needed to help. Allison had come a long way in the short weeks of summer that she distanced herself. He felt honored that he was the only one she kept in contact with, but it also made Stiles feel guilty that he was keeping this from Scott. But Allison had begged, and he did like having a special place, just where he could be alone, or with Allison, where nothing else seemed to matter, it was like a time out and as long as they didn't talk about werwolves, or hunting, or Scott, everything was fine.

She saw it in his eyes, the gold turning over with a dark color, it was stormy and it didn't give Allison that warm feeling Stiles usually gave her. She wasn't going to ruin this, maybe in time, but not now. She was so close to actually liking herself again and the way Stiles' face changed told her everything she needed to know, it wasn't good and she wasn't going to be apart of it. It sounded selfish, not wanting to know about the impeding doom that was sure to be hovering over Beacon Hills, but not knowing was safer, in her own head. Not knowing kept her from lying to her father, who, though still kept his hardened shell, was growing mad with finding Gerard's body, with sticking to the code, with making Allison recite it over and over, so she would never go that dark again. Things were finally getting back to normal with them again despite his actions, and she missed her dad, her only family. She was not about to go ruin that with coveted information about werewolves, she wasn't ready.

After coffee Stiles made his way home, surprised to see his dad's car in the driveway. He shut the door to his jeep and made his way up the driveway, towards the front door. "Back here son!" The sheriff called to Stiles and he reverted his steps, heading towards the back gate. Stiles stopped for a second, remembering Lydia leaving through the same gate, the night he told her he needed time. She was so ready for a friendship, he saw it in her green eyes, the way she wanted to be around him, wanted to talk to him, confide in him,_ trust_ him. Stiles licked his lips and marched through the yard, slamming the gate in the process. Mr. Stilinski was standing in the middle of the yard, Stiles' lacrosse stick in one hand, the white ball in the other. "Dad, why are you home so early?" "It was slow, come on, we haven't practiced in a few days." Mr. Stilinski smiled at his son while Stiles walked over. "You sure everything is okay?" The teen asked, uncomfortably. "Yes, Stiles." Mr. Stilinski frowned, "stop worrying so much." The sheriff laughed and clapped his son on the back. "Sorry..." Stiles mumbled while moving to the far end of the yard.

It wasn't like Stiles meant to take everything his father said in two different ways. First for face value, and then for what it was _really _supposed to mean. He still felt terrible for costing his father the position of sheriff a few months back. It was all Stiles' fault and he figured staying out of trouble would help, for a little while. He was trying so hard to keep everything together, and it wasn't like the sheriff hadn't taken notice, he loved his son, and he thought that helping him with something like lacrosse, something he knew Stiles was struggling with, it would make him see that none of that mattered. But there was a large part of the sheriff that knew that it was something bigger, he had seen Stiles at his absolute worst, those panic attacks he used to have kept Mr. Stilinski awake for months, terrified that something would happen to Stiles, that he would lose him too.

"So, was Lydia waiting for you last night?" The sheriff asked while tossing the large ball to the ground, underhand. Stiles frowned while scooping it up in his net. "No." Stiles mumbled, his fingers tapping quickly on the smooth grip of the stick. "Oh." His father frowned. "She said she was going to.." "It's fine dad. I didn't want to see her anyway." He sighed while using a swift motion to fling the ball back at his father, who was holding a baseball glove. Stiles smiled to himself, his father never did get lacrosse, wished his son continued with baseball, _'a real sport'_. "Now that doesn't sound like you?" The sheriff commented. Stiles scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. "Dad, I really don't wanna-" "I mean, she's a nice girl, comes from a good family. I know she doesn't have the same feelings for you, she's dating- what's his name?...David Whittemore's kid. But that doesn't mean she doesn't want you in her life, Stiles." Mr. Stilinski interrupted his son. Stiles stared at his dad, he really seemed concerned with this. Lydia was barley in his life before, and she comes to the house a few times and now he wants Stiles and her to be besties? Stiles sighed. "Maybe I don't want her in _my_ life, dad." Stiles answered, his voice raw and his enthusiasm for practice gone. He tossed his stick to his father and walked up the back porch steps, hitting the landing where Lydia sat a little harder than the others and into the house. Mr. Stilinski watched his son go, sighing to himself.

Stiles slammed his bedroom door with some unnecessary force and raked his fingers through his trimmed hair. It wasn't like he could tell his dad exactly why he didn't want to be friends with Lydia, it wasn't like it was just because she didn't love him, that, that Stiles could handle. It was everything, using him, tormenting him, kissing his best friend, lying right to his face. It was the lying and Stiles knew it. He had always pegged Lydia Martin to be the most honest person he knew, brutally at times, but that was something he had always admired about the girl. She didn't care who she hurt, she remained true to herself, and Stiles supposed that was what she was doing, he just didn't think she'd lie about it, not to him anyway. Stiles meant nothing, why waste a lie? But this was a big one, and it wasn't like he wouldn't find out about it all.

He remembered the day Scott had told him, it was right after everything was sorted out with Jackson coming back to life, Scott's mom lied to the hospital staff, she blotted all necessary paperwork, and Jackson was free to go around, making out with his girlfriend and acting like he owned the world. Scott had finally met up with Derek, and he explained that Lydia needed to be monitored, that his uncle was back because he stole his way into the girls mind and brain washed her, they all though she was going crazy, yet they didn't know the half of it. When Stiles was finally delivered the information, he was already set on waiting for Lydia, already had talked himself out of thinking the worst of the situation. They were a high school relationship, how long could they possibly last? Especially with that much ego in one relationship. Stiles was positive about everything, until Scott broke through the haze he had wrapped himself around, a comfortable and shallow security blanket. She had lied, she knew everything, it wasn't in pieces, it was laid out right in front of her pretty green eyes, Peter had told her everything she needed to know, got her to do exactly what he wanted, and what that was? Stiles hadn't figured out yet, but it didn't matter, because she used him. She knew exactly what was going to happen and used all the guilt and adoration that Stiles harbored for her to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was Jackson. So, Stiles figured that night that he was done.

It started out small, walking in opposite directions of her in the halls, made sure not to pass by her block on his way home, and even went so far as to change his seat in chem that last week of classes, not that Harris cared much. But the thing was, no one noticed, except Lydia, and that night she came to his back door apologizing just to get it out there, just because it is what you do when someone is mad, Stiles knew that nothing would change his mind, that he couldn't be friends with her, not with loving her like he did, not with having this disdain in his heart for her, it just wasn't going to work and Stiles had to do something that he hadn't done in what felt like forever, save himself.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been three days since he last thought of Lydia. His father was smart not to mention her again, not after the way Stiles had handled it the other night. But it was Saturday, and Saturday meant BBQ and baseball games and usually, that meant Scott McCall would be over. Mr. Stilinski was quick to notice the absence of his son's best friend but didn't bring it up, since Stiles had been seemingly on edge for the last few days. Scott's absence didn't go unnoticed by Stiles either, but the teen knew a little more than the sheriff. Derek called a meeting. That was all Stiles knew and all he wanted to. He was particularly more irritable, and he wasn't in the mood to entertain. It was gorgeous out, the sun setting behind the neighboring houses gave him the shade he wanted to wash his jeep. His father thought that was silly, that he needed the sun to be able to dry it properly, but it was too hot for Stiles to actually stand out there and give his jeep the attention that she deserved. So he hopped off the couch silently and made his way outside, his father not even needing an explanation.

He filled the bucket with suds, grabbed a large sponge and meticulously wiped at the blue and black paint. He paid close attention to his tires, which were still crusted with dried mud and pressed grass, from all his time in the woods. Stiles sighed while patting the hot, damp metal of the jeeps hood. "Sorry baby." He mumbled quietly to the jeep that had gotten him through so much. Staring through the drivers side window, he could still imagine Lydia's outline in the front seat. He didn't have time to think of it a month ago, but she looked so out of place in his battered truck. She didn't belong in it, no, the jeep was too flawed and bulky for her frail frame. Now, a Porsche suited her properly. Stiles sighed and dropped the sponge into the water, wishing that everything didn't remind him of her.

"Did you really just talk to your car just now?" A voice asked from behind him, the high pitch sounding amused. Stiles turned, nearly slipping on sparse water that collected on the concrete and faced the girl. "It's not a car." He corrected with a small smirk. His hands found their way into the pockets of his khaki shorts. "Oh, excuse me." She smiled, walking a little closer, inspecting his work. "You missed a spot." Her defined brow rose, testing him. Stiles licked his lips and bent down, tossing a dry rag to the girl in front of him. "Get to work, Reyes." He bit right back. Erica laughed while catching it effortlessly and wiped softly at the smudge on the side, by his gas tank. "So.." She started, lazily bringing the ratty towel down on the shiny metal. "Look Erica, I never apologized to you about leaving you at the Argent's and.." "Stiles, please. I didn't come for that." She shook her head, the wild blonde curls falling into her face. She seemed to be annoyed with this and grabbed a black elastic from her bare wrist and pushed the mess of curls on top of her head. Stiles smiled at the aggression she put into something so simple. "Werewolf or not, this heat really screws with my hair." She smiled warmly, a single curl fell from the bun, landing near her cheek. "There wasn't much you could do, Stiles. I don't blame you, I would never." She shook her head, her brown eyes shining off the glare from the jeep. That made Stiles feel good, it made him feel better than he had in days. He smiled but said nothing, just scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the rim of one tire. "So, what I really came by for is to ask you something." She placed the towel down and wiped her hands on her tight jean shorts. "Oh, so you didn't just come to help me with manual labor?" Stiles teased and felt good doing it, he felt like himself, and the laughs that escaped Erica Reyes were equally encouraging as they were confusing. She should hate him. He left her for dead, thought she died too, after everything happened, after he got over his initial shock of Jackson becoming a werwolf and Lydia running into his arms, he remembered Erica and Boyd, remembered how their fate was still a mystery, and it made Stiles feel terrible. But here the werewolf was, alive, unharmed, probably shaken up, and probably was put through hell for wanting to leave Derek in the first place, but she was home and safe and that comforted Stiles.

"Scott came by Derek's place today." Erica sighed, scratching her smooth forehead. "That isn't a question." Stiles pointed out, unsure where she was heading with this. "Why didn't you come?" Her eyes fixed on his. Brown on brown. Stiles didn't know how to answer. Was it as simple as saying Scott hadn't invited him? He knew Erica would realize there was more, that Stiles sort of resented werwolves for all that they caused, that he practically had an I hate werwolves club with his best friends ex girlfriend, that he blamed them for everything that had happened, and mostly because Jackson was a werwolf and Jackson would be part of the pack. Scott hadn't said that to him, but Stiles figured as much. Stiles shrugged, remembering that Erica was expecting an answer. "I just need a break from it." He mumbled looking down at the bucket, the subs were quickly fading, leaving only a slimy film on top of the hose water. Erica hummed while leaning against Stiles' jeep. "So you're not quitting on us?" She asked, there was a small amount of humor to her tone, that made the statement light to the ear, but Stiles could feel the plea underlining in. This was why she was here, she was making sure he wasn't running, just like she had. "Nah, I'm not done." Stiles smiled. "Good." Erica spoke, a fierceness to her voice. He looked up at her surprised. "We need you, Stiles. You may not think you're important but it is different without you there. Things don't seem as put together, you know? Like a part of the group is missing." She picked at an invisible piece of lint on her summery yellow shirt, the material so sheer that Stiles could see the outline of her torso and the white of her bra. It was nice to hear that things weren't perfect without him, even if he wasn't ready to jump back into things, he didn't want to find out that they didn't really need him. Erica confirming the opposite made him feel good.

Erica walked around Stiles who was still scrubbing at his wheels. She grabbed the Windex from the dashboard and started spraying at the inner window from the front seat. They worked in silence, Erica not minding at all being put to work and Stiles just enjoying having company. "Those burgers smell good." She commented, hearing Stiles' stomach growl and inhaled the delicious aroma of beef frying. Stiles nodded eagerly. Erica was spraying the back window when Stiles finally finished up on his tires. "Stiles." She started slowly, calmly. "Yeah?" He asked, squinting at her. The sun was almost gone, it had fell from the rooftops of the houses across the street to be squished between the sides of them. The bright light mixed with the yellow hues of her shirt and hair made it hard for Stiles to see clearly. "Don't make it obvious, but Lydia is standing across the street watching us."

That was all it took for Stiles to lose this serenity. He immediately tensed up, a frown forming on his already much too serious face, Erica didn't miss a beat. She rose a brow but didn't make a comment. She was thinking it of course, Stiles knew she had to be. He swept the other side of the street from the corner of his eye, while grabbing the spray bottle from Erica. Lydia was indeed standing opposite them, her chest rising in falling a little too harshly, but she was in jogging shorts and her hair was thrown into a high ponytail. Sweat was glistening on her shoulders, and Stiles tried not to make it obvious that he was staring, without staring. Lydia noticed, she pulled out one ear bud, looking for any oncoming cars, but before she actually got across the street Mr. Stilinski came from the yard waving a spatula and had a cheesy kiss the cook apron hugging his waist, though it was Stiles' his father had never embarrassed him enough to say so. "Dinner's ready Sti- oh! Erica, right?" Stiles eyes now immediately went to Lydia, he wasn't listening to his father or to Erica, he wanted to raise his hand, wave at her, or something, but his arm fell like lead at his side, to heavy to lift up. He managed a small smile, but he wasn't sure she'd see it from the glare his jeep was giving off. But he saw her smile back, it was just as small, and it vanished with her quick movements to leave. She jogged down the long empty street, Stiles watched her go. Erica came to stand next to him, a firm hand on his shoulder. "Your father invited me for dinner, but I can go." She mumbled in his ear. He sighed while shaking his head. "Stay, food is the least I can give you for leaving you for dead." He smiled at her and Erica rolled her big brown eyes, using the same hand that was still on his shoulder to push him gently. She stared at him for a moment, her gaze penetrating, trying to seep into the deepest parts of Stiles that he tried to keep hidden. "What?" He asked, clearing his throat. "I'm not sure I want to know what's going on here." Erica's eyes flickered towards the opposite side of the street and then back to meet his eyes. Stiles knew what she was talking about, and he didn't really feel like telling her. He didn't want to ruin their afternoon with thoughts and conversations of Lydia Martin. He shrugged though, granting her a lopsided smile and tugged on her arm, pulling her towards the yard.

Why had she done that? Lydia asked herself while slamming the front door of her house. "Lydia?" Her mothers soft voice came from the living room. "Yeah, it's me." She sighed while taking off her head phones and wrapped them delicately around her phone. She just wanted to see if he was okay. That was all. She _had_ to know that he was okay. Lydia kept reminding herself. She tore off the tee shirt she wore, feeling hot and sticky with sweat, and proceeded into the living room. "How was your run?" Mrs. Martin asked, and Lydia shrugged. "Fine, I'm going to take a shower." She landed in the archway to the living room, and looked up, to see her mother sitting on the couch, watching TV with.. "Jackson." Lydia mumbled, alarmed. "What are you doing here?" Jackson got off his spot on the couch and walked towards her. "Came to see if you wanted to grab dinner, your mom said you were out jogging." She smiled when he pressed his lips onto hers. "Let me shower quick, okay?" Jackson nodded, the heat from his hands pressed firmly against the exposed skin of her abdomen. Lydia gave another quick smile and jogged up the stairs.

Lydia shut her bedroom door quietly while falling onto her bed. She wasn't sure how well Jackson's hearing was now, and she didn't want him to see how miserable she was, over Stiles Stilinski of all things. Lydia huffed while walking towards her adjoining bathroom. She was just making sure he was alright. She repeated while lazily raising a hand to feel the waters temperature. Erica Reyes was over his house. Was he into_ her_? Was that who he was spending all his time with now? It didn't matter. When he wanted to be friends, when he finally realized that her being with Jackson wasn't the end of the world and they could make something work, he'd come to her. Lydia Martin wasn't one to beg, or chase, for the matter. This was a whole new territory, this was different than anything else she had ever experienced.

After her shower Lydia got dressed, she didn't really want to go out, much rather curl up on the couch with a bowl of cereal and a cliché romantic comedy, nothing with supernatural creatures, just something plain and simple. But Jackson had been more persistent as of late. He was sharper, he got her sarcasm, he wasn't missing a beat. Six months ago, that would have been a dream come true, but now she just found it annoying. She wondered if hitting him would result like Bella Swan in Twilight. He deserved it half the time. The other reason why she didn't want to be with Jackson at the moment was because she was still upset over the night at _Vino Giardino_, the Italian restaurant her father had been excited to take her to. It was supposed to be just the two of them, it was supposed to be nice, quiet, but Jackson had shown up, and from the moment he got there, things had been off. Her father loved him, of course. He was Jackson Whittemore. He was a skilled athlete, came from money, came back from the dead. Jackson was everything Mr. Martin could want for his daughter, and yet, there was something strange about him. And what was stranger than a werwolf boyfriend? That was the first night they kissed since that night in Scott's room months ago. They were taking things slow, a difficult task for Jackson, but he agreed, wanted things to be different, and then he goes and kisses her, in front of her dad, in front of Stiles. It was embarrassing and misplaced. But she was happy. Of course she was happy. She loved Jackson, he was back. _They _were back. He was just a little different, he was just going to turn into a werewolf every full moon now. He was alive, that was what was important. Not this pathetic obsession with getting Stiles Stilinski to be her friend, but this, the boy of her dreams waiting downstairs to take her to dinner. She looked at herself in the mirror before leaving her room, finally liking what she saw. There was no clouded vision of a monstrous man behind her, whispering over the top theories in her ear, telling her exactly what needed to be done. It was just Lydia, and she liked that.

"Erica's a sweet girl, I like her." Mr. Stilinski commented to his son while handing him a dripping plate. Stiles took it, gently drying it with the hand towel. "She's great, dad. Thanks for being so nice to her." And he meant it. No matter how much she said not to worry about it, he knew there was more to it. That whole twisted experience was going to have some affect on her. Like how she flinched when a car passed, or how she looked all around before finally relaxing into her seat, before she could enjoy herself. He felt somewhat responsible. "When did you two become friends?" "Oh.." Stiles started, furrowing his brows. Were they friends now? He helped save her life after having an episode, he ignored her while she confessed to having feelings for him, she told him that he was needed. They were friend. Not just because Stiles was feeling particularly lonely, or lacking in that department. But because Erica was a nice girl, and she was fighting the same battle that he should be. They were on the same side, and that made them more than just friends, her coming to his house that night made that word seem too weak, the situation proved to him that it was more. "Not sure. Just sort of happened." Stiles shrugged as Mr. Stilinski nodded, shutting off the tap and drying his hands on the apron he still wore. "She's a good kid. Beautiful girl too." Mr. Stilinski hinted. Stiles rolled his eyes. No girls. No thinking about girls, and not just ones with strawberry blonde hair and eyes as green as mint ice cream. "I'm going to head upstairs, I have some paperwork to fill out before bed." "Night dad." "Goodnight, son." Mr. Stilinski smiled from the archway and left, Stiles could hear his footsteps grow faint as they made their way towards the master bedroom.

Stiles ended up on the couch. He was feeling better after talking to Erica, and confused as to why Lydia was stalking his house. He was flattered and secretly happy about it, but couldn't admit it out loud, that was going against this fool proof plan of his to get over that strawberry blonde menace. He tapped his fingers on his cell phones screen a few times before giving into his urge and texted her. He wasn't sure she'd answer, and part of him thought it be safer if she didn't, but he just wanted to talk to her. Couldn't think of anything else better at the moment.

Lydia's phone went off during dinner, while Jackson was going on with his insufferable rant about lacrosse, and how _now_ there is no way Scott McCall was going to beat him out for captain again. Jackson was now invincible. Lydia nodded politely while fishing for her cell phone. Her eyes widened in surprise at who the sender was but she opened it anyway, greedy for any contact with the boy.

"_You could have stopped by and said hi today. I don't bite, not like most of the kids in this town." _

Lydia smiled and placed her phone back in her purse. Jackson was barley registering that she wasn't listening anymore. He continued to talk and Lydia continued to smile, not at her boyfriend across from her, but at the fact that Stiles had texted her first. Maybe he was coming around.


	4. Chapter 4

"What took you so long?" The girl demanded, shutting the door quietly and dragging the boy up to her room before he had a chance to speak. Once inside Stiles scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly waiting for her to explain herself. "Sorry." She sighed. Her back resting against the now shut door. "I don't want my dad to know you're here." Stiles nodded, walking around the room he had never once even thought of. The walls were a purplish color, reminding him faintly of Lydia's. He licked his lips. "Allison, is everything okay?" He turned back to her. He was tired, his voice was scratchy. He had been up half the night feeling sorry for himself and had the realization that getting over a girl like Lydia Martin would not be as easy as planned. She hadn't responded to him and though Stiles told himself that it was for the best, he couldn't help but feel foolish about being so eager. It upset him that she hadn't answered, it was nothing, something so unimportant in the grand scheme of things and it had him up half the night hating himself.

"Sit, please." Allison mumbled timidly. Her doe eyes wide with frustration. Stiles looked between the desk chair and the edge of her rumpled bed, deciding that he would rather be comfortable, and dropped down to it. It was sitting there that he thought of all the things that her and Scott must have done together on that bed, in those sheets, and he immediately wanted to change his mind, move to the chair, the one that Allison was slowly sitting in. He sighed and tried to push it out of his mind. Her eyes were distant, looking off into a corner of the room that held nothing but her question and limited sanity. Her hands came to her mouth in a praying format. Stiles was worried, but wouldn't speak until she did. "I changed my mind." She mumbled, he barley heard her. "I've decided that it is stupid and selfish to try and stay in the dark about something like this. I-" She sighed. Finding the words to convey her thoughts, without having to sound feeble and anxious. "I don't want to be at risk, I don't want to wake up scared or worried and confused. I want to be able to handle these things without going back to that place I was at. I need to have some control, right?" She looked up at him, and Stiles nodded quickly, still confused, but sort of scared of her. Allison continued. "Stiles, I need you to tell me everything you know. My dad, he knows something is going on, he won't talk to me about it, but he hasn't denied that he knows either." Allison rubbed her lips together, moving the dark hair from her face to look at the boy across from her. "Please, I want to help."

Stiles sighed and leaned back more on the bed. "I don't know much, but, I don't want to say anything without talking to Scott first." Stiles looked at her. "If that's okay?" He added quickly, just to be on the safe side. He knew Allison wouldn't go shoot him with an arrow, he knew she was herself again. He also knew that she cared, and that this was more for protecting the people she loved, her father, over anything else. He didn't mind that, he knew if it came down to it, his father would be the first one he'd protect too. They had an understanding, a foundation for a friendship they never thought would escalate as far as it had. He cared for Allison and wanted her to feel like she could trust him, and more importantly that she _could_ be trusted. But his loyalty was to Scott first, and he knew that Allison had already known that. He watched her nod quietly, staring back at that distant space of nothingness. "You do what you have to. Just find me after. I'll be here." Stiles stood, reminding himself that he should wash his current outfit for his own sanity once he got home and started for the door. He turned back to her, seeing the conflict in her face, the way her lips tugged down, the way she seemed to catch her breath every few moments. "Allison?" He mumbled. She turned and looked up at him, trying to master her old smile. "It's going to get better." He promised. Because it would. It had to. Allison and Scott were meant for each other, she was meant to be an ally, not an opponent. They were stronger together, hadn't that last year proved it? Allison smiled at Stiles and moved from her desk chair to right in front of him. "Thank you." She whispered before hugging him. Stiles was surprised. He never hugged Allison, he actually never hugged a girl, if you don't count his cousins, and Stiles doesn't count them. So the first girl he had hugged since god knows when was Allison Argent, and it felt good. Not just good because it was a girl, and it showed that he wasn't repulsive to the opposite sex, but good because she was something sturdy, something to keep him up, and feel like he was strong enough. Those two had done that for the past month or so, held each other up, make the other feel stable, but this was different, in the past it was just words, but this was a lot stronger than a word. Actions spoke louder and this spoke volumes. Allison was trusting him, and it felt good. Really, really good. "For what?" He mumbled into her hair. It, she, all of her smelt like cinnamon, like she coated herself in Big Red gum every morning. She moved back, to look in his face, but her grasp stayed where his arms bent near the elbow. "For a lot of things." She laughed, "but mostly for believing in me so much." Stiles smiled. "It's going to get better." He repeated, leaving her room, and leaving her house.

He wasn't answering his phone. That could only mean two things, and one of which was no longer an option, so it really only meant one thing, and that was what Stiles dreaded the most. He didn't want to face Derek and the others. Erica coming to him was one thing, but him going there, having to see them, that was different, it meant something different whether he wanted it to or not. He tried Scott one more time before parking outside of the coffee shop. If he was going to have to talk to the pack, he needed something to keep him sane doing so. He hopped out of his jeep and headed towards the tinted door, nearly being hit with it. He stepped back, dodging the blow it would have caused and was faced with Lydia Martin. He sighed to himself.

"Stiles, hi." She smiled brightly. "Hi Lydia." He muttered, looking awkwardly away from her. She looked flawless, a pink sundress covered her tanning skin and her hair was pulled into a braid that hung loose over her shoulder. Her sunglasses were on top of her head despite the blazing sun, and a iced coffee was cupped in her palm. He glared at the plastic cup and the sweat trickling down it. How did she know about this place? It was so new and quietly placed, he never pegged her for a nameless coffee shop drinker, more of a Starbucks or a gas station goer. "How are you?" She asked, adjusting the strap of her bag across her chest. Stiles licked his lips and moved towards the door. "Good, good. I'm actually in a hurry so.." "Sorry I didn't text back last night. I was sort of busy." She shrugged, seeming sincere. Stiles nodded. "It's cool, forgot all about it." It was easier to lie when he was bitter. "Look, Stiles-" Lydia walked towards him, her face downcast-ed, ready to say something clever and heartwarming he was sure. But he didn't want to hear it. He couldn't hear it.

It was then that the door opened again and he was hit with it this time. A low huff left his lips as he stumbled forward into Lydia. He grabbed her arms, not to let her fall, and she looked up at him, surprised and slightly amused. He stammered, looking into her eyes, being so close to her. "S-sorry." He mumbled quietly. Lydia nodded. "Did my favorite customer get a new girlfriend?" A loud voice asked from behind, it made Stiles stiffen and move away from Lydia. He turned. "Neither are my girlfriend, Jo." Stiles smiled at her. "I was wondering when you were coming in. Saw your jeep." Her head tilted towards the large black and blue clunker behind the teens. "Please tell me he's joking, Red!" Jo referred to Lydia who seemed surprised. "W-what?" She asked, Stiles felt himself start to blush. "Tell me, are the girls all over him at school? Because he is just the most modest little puppy dog I've ever seen." Lydia smiled, a slight giggle left her lips. Stiles groaned. "Please, can we not talk about my-" "I gotta beat them off with a bat." Lydia concluded, giving Stiles a sly smile. "Did you know he won Beacon Hills the championship in lacrosse?" "Stop it!" Jo cooed, smiling. Her red lips matched her incredible red hair, both not holding a candle to the tint in Stiles' cheeks. "Can I have my usual? _Please_." Stiles interrupted. Jo sensed the hint and walked inside, winking. "She seems fun." Lydia smirked, "and she's got a crush on you." Stiles stood in front of her again. "Yeah, just like all the girls you have to keep off me at school." Stiles spat. "I was just joking." Lydia rolled her eyes. Stiles' smile was condescending. "Well, thanks for not letting on what a loser I am." Lydia frowned while shaking her head. "You're not a loser, Stiles." His brow rose, signaling to Lydia that she wasn't changing his mind. "Well, I have to get going." She started. "but it was great seeing you. Maybe we can even-" "Lydia.." Stiles weakly mumbled. "Got it." She smiled, though the usual sparkle was burnt out of her eyes. "Soon though." She insisted with a clever gleam and a seductive bite of her very pink lips. She waved while walking towards her own car that was parked at the corner. Stiles watched her walk away, wondering how he missed it in the first place. _"Soon."_ He whispered. His words having a whole different meaning, and walked into the coffee shop to fetch his tall decaf with no sugar.

Stiles tracked his way through the thickening greens of the Beacon Hills reserve. Since it was now summer, almost officially, the woods were crowded with dense bushes, frequent branches and bugs that had Stiles bare arms and legs crawl with the annoyance of itching. He made it to the clearing that the Hale house sat on. He could see already in the few months that he had cleared from this place the difference in it. Derek was fixing it up. He walked up the still loose steps to the porch that was cleared of all the fall leaves and dirty debris that once littered the aging platform. Stiles' eyes flickered towards to gaping hallowed out space to the left, where he supposed Derek's little werewolf army created a path for cars to enter. Stiles didn't regret not using it. He needed the time to think. How was Stiles supposed to approach this? Get Scott alone, that was best.

He knocked on the door. It seemed sort of silly, knocking on a ancient door to an abandoned house in the middle of the creepy woods, but he was doing it anyway. Erica came to the door, the first face he saw. She smiled at him, warming him more than the coffee he had thrown back in the jeep could. She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door with a loud slam. The inside was still musky, he didn't think the haze of dust and burnt wood would ever leave, but it seemed more homey than before, and he walked deeper into the house Erica leading. He saw them all, Derek and Scott huddled close to a table with loose papers and books, Issac and Body sitting on the worn couch that Stiles knew probably came from someones garbage, and Jackson Whittemore in the corner, leaning against a dirty pillar on his phone. Erica walked over to Issac and Boyd, sitting in between them. Stiles awkwardly walked into the makeshift living room and cleared his throat. Scott looked up at him, smiling. "Hey, what are you doing here?" "I kinda need to talk to you about something." Derek's gaze landed on Stiles and he nodded at the Alpha before he and Scott excused themselves.

"What's up?" Scott asked once the two were far enough away that Scott couldn't hear what the pack was saying inside the house. Stiles sighed and fooled around with a leaf he had picked off a tree. "Look, I don't really know how to start this, but, I've been hanging out with Allison." Scott pressed his lips together and looked to the ground. "How is she?" "Better, actually. She's almost herself again." Stiles nodded with a small smile. "The thing is, Scott, that I've been hanging out with her since before school ended." "What?" Scott asked, his eyes started to narrow, accusingly. "Alright, it isn't that big a deal, we get coffee, like every other day, and we talk about normal things like school and-" "You hate coffee." Scott informed Stiles. "I used to, now I'm sort of addicted, actually." The sixteen year old licked his lips, he could feel Scott growing more impatient. Stiles was growing impatient. "So you two hang out? All the time, and you don't tell me?" "Scott-" "No. You lied to me. You probably don't even play lacrosse with your dad." Scott accused. He was glaring now. "Look I'm not telling you this to piss you off, I'm trying to ask you something." "What? If you can ask her out? You want to steal my girlfriend just because the girl you can't seem to get over wants Jackson?" Stiles froze. He didn't want to admit it, but it hurt, Scott saying something like that to him. He tried to mask it, laugh it off. Scott was just pissed that Stiles was the only one in contact with Allison. Stiles knew that, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Scott wasn't backing down, Stiles could see that. "I was actually going to ask your permission if I could fill her and her dad in on what you guys know, or better yet, what you guys are still clueless to do about it." Stiles' eyes narrowed. His voice taking over a tone that would come from a dismayed teacher. "But it's occurred to me that I don't need your permission." He all but hissed as he pushed passed Scott heading back to his jeep. "Stiles!" Scott yelled. "You can't tell them!" He called after his best friend's retreating figure. He watched him walk away, and heard distinctly in his ear "I'm doing it anyway."

What nerve. Stiles was seething. Scott had the _nerve_ to talk about him like that. They were best friends. Allison wasn't the center of the universe. There were more important things. For starters, not getting themselves killed before graduating. Stiles glared into the setting sun as he drove to Allison's. He didn't care what Scott said. They had a right to know, if there were more werwolves in town ones that were supposedly all alpha's, they were all screwed, and he didn't know anyone who knew more about this than Chris Argent. After what happened that night Gerard died, he formed a new respect for the moral hunter. It had been over a month and he hadn't tried to hurt or kill anyone in Derek's pack. Not even Jackson, who Stiles was rather disappointed about. He parked in the driveway and flew to the door. Allison met him with a surprised look. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon." She admitted, letting him inside. Stiles was losing his confidence, he didn't want to betray his friend, but he knew he could trust them, he knew it. Chris came out of the kitchen, giving Stiles that cold glare that he seemed to give everyone. Stiles nodded gulping back his doubt, betraying his best friend wasn't something Stiles ever really wanted to do, but Scott was out of line, he didn't want Allison, and the way Scott spoke about it, he didn't really want Lydia either. He just didn't want to feel like this anymore. So he made the decision, as he walked into the living room with Allison and her father, as he sat down on the couch, he knew what he had to do. Scott had his own pack now, made up of people just like him, and Stiles needed to be with ones more his speed, humans. He took a deep breathe before starting the story of minimal information a whole lot of worrying. He heard himself say it before he lost the nerve. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but he no longer cared much. "I just have one condition before we start. A favor, actually." Allison nodded, signaling for him to go on, her father remained expressionless.


	5. Chapter 5

This was boring. Correction, this was _beyond_ boring. Jackson had promised he'd only be there for a few minutes, but it had turned into an hour, an hour wasted with sitting on a dirty couch in the middle of that decrepit house that she never,_ ever_ wanted to step foot into again. Jackson didn't understand that. But it wasn't like they talked about what had happened,what either of them had went through that school year. It was sort of like none of it mattered. She saw Scott's eyes keep shifting towards her, Erica's too. She saw the judgment, the pain, but what she didn't see bothered her more. Stiles. The only reason why she agreed to go in there was because Stiles would be there, the only other human she knew caught up in this mess, if they weren't counting Allison, and no one was these days.

But Stiles was missing and so was her filter. She needed out. The house still smelt like smoke and death and it made Lydia's skin crawl with the memories of what happened there, how Peter tricked her, tormented her. She thought it was done, that he wouldn't bother her anymore, now that she did what he asked. But it was short lived, because only a day before he found her. He was in her car after she left the coffee shop, after she ran into Stiles. She swore she saw him. He vanished just as quickly as he appeared, it was all a blur, just like when that waitress asked if she was Stiles' girlfriend, or his _other_ girlfriend. Lydia couldn't remember the details, only his eyes and then Peter's and how foolish she felt, that it would all stop. Lydia slipped out of the Hale house, no one noticed she left. It made her laugh, that they all had heightened senses and didn't notice her departure. But mostly, Lydia didn't think they cared. Stiles would have. He would have sat next to her on the dirty couch, smiled, made a joke, made her feel welcomed. No one else seemed to take that into consideration, though she sensed that this wasn't a normal Scooby gang meeting. She sat outside on the steps, cell phone in hand, and debating calling Stiles, see where he was, if he'd be joining them soon. It be bearable to be there if he was. Jackson forgot her existence the moment they stepped into the house.

"Hello Lydia. It's been a while." The voice was at her ear, smoothly, but the figure of him, the man that voice _had _to belong to was feet away, standing in the middle of the grassy area that the front porch opened up to. His boot clad feet were stepping into a harsh track of dirt, that cut through the grass like his memory cut through her mind. "Peter Hale." He smiled at her kindly, his eyes gentle. "How are you?" Lydia shivered, but nodded. "and that werewolf boyfriend of yours?" Lydia didn't move. Just stared at him, _through _him, trying desperately to size him up. Why was he here now? She hadn't seen him in about a month, she was finally happy. But he was real now, everyone could see him, right? Wasn't that the plan when she drugged Derek Hale and brought him to this very house. Peter looked around. "My nephew doesn't have the same taste as I do, this place would have looked far more presentable by now if I called the shots." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. Lydia bit her lip, trying to control her heart, how nervous he was making her. She had learned a thing or two from Jackson, that he, that _they _could hear her heartbeat, smell unreasonable emotions that no one should be able to sense. It was physically impossible, but she was trying to let that go. "Someone seems to be missing." Peter tilted his head innocently. "Who?" She questioned, just as indifferent. Though she knew who he meant. The only person he could possibly mean. "Mr. Stilinski doesn't come here much these days Lydia. He's avoiding everyone, not just you." Lydia wasn't sure if that was meant to be comforting, but it just made her feel cold all over. "I don't keep tabs on Stiles." She stated mildly. Peter smiled, he had sensed her lie. "Of course you do, Lydia. It just_ irks_ you how he doesn't want to feel these things that he does. You want him to dote on you." "I am not the _doting _type." She hissed. Peter's smile dropped, his eyes turning cold. "You're with Jackson, and we are going to keep it that way." He commanded harshly. 

"He is a werewolf now, Lydia, but that can change like that!" He hissed, snapping his fingers for emphasis. Lydia blinked, flinching back. He was in front of her now, glaring down at her. "What are you talking about? I did what you asked! I saved him! He's better." "You'd like to think that. But he's a monster with a dark, dark past." His eyes lightened, amusement in the blue rings. Seriously, therapy would do _wonders_ for him. You should look into it." Peter teased. Lydia didn't understand. He explained to her that her love for him was powerful enough to get him through. "Did you really think it would be that simple?" He asked, like he was talking to a child, like he was reading her mind. "This isn't going away, and as long as your feelings stay pure, Jackson will stay this way." Peter explained, then frowned. "Though, I can't see how this version is any better than when he had a tail." He smirked at her and Lydia glared. "Peter." Derek growled from behind Lydia, she flinched. "Derek! I was just catching up with an old friend." Peter smiled, looking down at the red head next to him. Lydia saw Jackson come out of the house behind Derek. "Can we _please_ go now?" She asked harshly. Jackson nodded, jogging down the steps and grabbed her hand before darting towards his Porsche.

Lydia watched the rest of Jackson's _new _family as they drove away. She listened as Jackson cursed at the trees around him, mumbling to himself to take the Land Rover next time. Lydia stared at Peter as they left the clearing where the Hale house sat. She still needed to protect Jackson, she was still holding his fate in her hands.

Stiles Stilinski laid on his bed, apathetic and alone. This was a typical summer day. He didn't know what day of the week exactly, but what did it matter? He felt like an idiot for going against Scott but barley registered anything besides anger for how his werwolf best friend handled the situation. Did he really think this whole thing was about Lydia Martin? Some of the people in that town couldn't protect themselves or the people they loved in the way that Scott or Derek could. He was useless and talking to the Argent's made him feel a little bit less. He knew he could trust them. Stiles had repeated that over and over. Allison's warm smile, the way Mr. Argent promised that nothing would be taken to personally, Stiles didn't miss the look he shot at his daughter when saying it. He figured not to mention that Scott practically demanded him not to tell her, he also decided not to mention how pissed Scott was. Even in their breakup, Scott only cared about Allison, his mind solely on her. He didn't even seem to notice that Stiles had been alone for most of their break so far. Scott was never around, either at summer school, scraping by or with Derek, figuring out the new werewolves next move. Scott didn't even know that Stiles liked coffee now or that he did in fact play lacrosse with his dad every couple afternoons, a lot more now since Scott dumped him, forgetting their times to meet up at the lacrosse field, not bringing his stick, needing to leave too early. Stiles didn't want to pretend anymore, not about anything. Not about how horrible his attraction for Lydia Martin made him feel, not about how his best friend found better company, not about any of that.

There was a knock at his door and then not a moment later a figure walked in. He knew who it was, and he didn't care. "Go away." He mumbled into his pillow. "We need to talk, Stiles." "No we don't. Just go." "Stiles.." "No. You said all you needed to yesterday. We have nothing to talk about." Scott sighed while sitting on his best friends bed. "I'm sorry." He mumbled. "I'm really sorry." Stiles didn't move, but he was listening. "Look, I didn't mean what I said. I know you don't have feelings for Allison. I don't know why I yelled at you. Maybe it's the full moon coming up or that we have no idea what we're doing about the stupid alpha's..." Scott sighed. "But what I said about Lydia, man, that was wrong. I know you're getting over her and I was just worried that maybe you'd start realize that there are other girls in this town, and now that you're hanging out with Allison so much..." Stiles sat up, him and Scott sat shoulder to shoulder at the edge of Stiles' bed. "I would never do that to you, man." "I know." Scott mumbled. "This break up just got me a little crazier than normal." Stiles sucked in his cheeks, biting at them gently. "Look I told Allison and her dad. She was trying to stay out of it, like I was, but she realized that a truce, or at least working together with some common ground would be better than pretending that nothing is happening." Scott nodded. "I told Derek." "...and" "and he's not mad. He wanted to talk to Chris, though you just made it easier on him." Stiles frowned. "Crap. I helped out Derek." Scott smiled clapping his best friend on the back. "We cool?" He asked. Stiles nodded. "We're cool." Scott sighed. "Good, cause there is one more thing I need to tell you." Stiles looked at Scott, sensing that this wasn't going to be as light as their previous conversation.

"Stiles! Where the hell are you?" Mr. Stilinski barked into the phone. Stiles held the phone to his ear while turning onto a dark street. "Oh, hey dad. I had to step out for a minute." "Step_ out_ for a _minute_?" His father mocked. "Where are you?" "I had to go to Scott's." He lied. "He left his phone in my room, and his mom would be pissed if she thought he lost it again." He heard his father sigh on the other end of the line. "Don't come home too late, alright? I'm leaving for work now." "Okay." Stiles mumbled. "Be careful." "Always am." The sheriff responded before hanging up. Stiles threw his phone onto the passenger seat and broke the speeding limit on his way to Lydia's house. She was the smartest girl in school, maybe the smartest person in town but right now, she was an idiot. Stiles scowled while rushing passed a stop sign and thought of all the things he wanted to scream at her. She just didn't listen. Didn't care, and it was driving him insane. Saving Jackson's life, that was one thing, fraternizing with the enemy, that was another. Scott barely got the words out before Stiles had rose for his keys. Talking to Peter Hale? Having secret conversations with him? Did she not have better judgment? Though Stiles knew that answer, she _was_ dating Jackson.

Once on her street he killed his lights and rolled to a stop outside her house. She had tall rose bushes obscuring most of the front but from his position on the street he could see her front door, and the two people in front of it. Jackson and Lydia. They were kissing, back from probably yet another _marvelous_ date, that would end in a goodnight grope fest. Stiles growled while narrowing his eyes. This was ridiculous. Completely backwards. Jackson should be looking after her, not him. It wasn't _his_ job. She wasn't _his_ responsibility. But Scott really hadn't said she was. He took it upon himself. Like he took everything upon himself. He just couldn't stay away. He watched them, under that porch light until his vision blurred from the tears he tried not to cry. He just wanted to be done, he wanted it all to go away, for him not to feel this way for her. Like the day in the coffee shop, how close they had been, how nice she was. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her to ignore him, walk passed him like he wasn't there, wanted her to forget his name, play dumb, be the girl she molded herself into all through middle school. He didn't deserve to feel like this, and it would take him all night sitting outside of her house to just crack the surface of realization.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun streamed through the window in golden hues that mixed with the powdery white of her sheer curtains to create a light bathed in butterscotch flecks. Lydia sighed contently through her nose, smelling the air in her room, which always seemed to smell like fresh honey, and she loved that. She stretched her pale arms and felt a body next to her. The content in her light green eyes, the worry-less smile faded and the memory of the previous night entered her mind. Lydia sighed again, sounding much more resentful. She wasn't supposed to feel like this, her and Jackson spending the night together for the first time in ages was supposed to be magical. It was supposed to be heat and passion, with loving caresses and lingering kisses. Lydia was supposed to feel blissful, on a high that only the man sleeping beside her could cause, but all Lydia could feel was the nagging urge to rip off her sheets and throw them into the washing machine immediately. Everything about this felt different than prior experiences. He felt different, still getting used to his new body, and Lydia tried to pull the white long sleeve shirt down as far as it could go, hiding the scratches on her arm.

She propped herself up, staring at Jackson who was still sound asleep. He was handsome. It wasn't a secret or one of those things that takes time to realize, not like how Lydia thought of Stiles. She blinked, why the hell did she think of Stiles? Stiles wasn't handsome, he was beautiful. Lydia let her head loll on the plush headboard. She was getting tired of the constant comparisons, the temptation she fought to talk to him. Jackson was sleeping peacefully in her bed, after a night of rolling around together in her sheets, doing the one thing that will bring two people as close as physically possible, and here she was, thinking of Stiles Stilinski.

Lydia willed herself to refrain, and think about what Peter Hale had said the other day. Jackson could easily sprout a tail and paralyze whomever he comes in contact with again, if Lydia didn't stick with this relationship. She loved Jackson, _obviously_ she loved him, but they were now even more different, not even just worlds away, but species too. He was about finding himself, and learning all about his new senses and gifts. Lydia knew who she was, knew what she was going to get out of life and everyone in it, Jackson was lost and Lydia was the found box. She was okay with that, she had to be, for all their sake. She frowned again looking down at his face, the curves, angles and markings that made him the perfect specimen. He was breathtaking, and he was hers, she loved that. Didn't she?

"What's wrong?" Jackson mumbled, sleep clear in his drowsy tone. "Hm?" Lydia hummed, looking indifferently at her nails. "Your heartbeat is speeding up. What are you thinking about?" Lydia didn't answer, just glared at him, obscured by her wild off red curls. She really hated that he could read her like never before. It was like making up for all the times he didn't understand her, though he hadn't gained anymore tact. Lydia sighed and pushed the covers off. "Thinking about last night." Jackson grinned, oblivious to the look of dismay on his girlfriends face. "Me too." He stretched, still smiling contently. Lydia licked her lips, ready to get off her bed. "Wait, where you running off to?" He asked, grabbing her arm firmly. Lydia winced from the contact to the fresh scratches. "Uh, if my mom sees you here, she'd kill us!" Lydia pointed out, Jackson released her and she got up. "Good point." He stretched his arm, refusing to open his eyes while looking for his phone on the bedside table. He frowned looking at the time. "Shit, I have to run, Lydia." He got up, shrugging into his jeans and his button down. "Where do you have to be at ten in the morning?" She questioned, defensively. "I'm meeting with my personal trainer today, remember I told you about that guy I met?" Lydia nodded, watching her boyfriend collect his wallet and keys."Okay, I need to get home and shower quick, love you." He breathed, his mind far off and kissed the corner of Lydia's mouth and left her room without looking back. Lydia sighed while uncrossing her arms and falling back onto her bed.

Stiles Stilinski looked up, the sky was a deep blue, it was bright and clear and not a single cloud in the stretch he could see in his line of vision. His mouth was gaping, taking in air and using it to curse under his breath. _"Son of a-"_ He mumbled off offhandedly, trying to force himself to get up. The girl giggled above him, smiling down, a smug look on her face. "You okay?" Stiles nodded aggressively and let Allison help him to his feet. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Thank you, for this. I'm sorry I'm crap at it." Allison shook her head, walking over to him with two water bottles. "No, no Stiles you're getting a lot better. If we just keep practicing, I know-" Stiles groaned. He jumped at the chance at a quick training session with Allison at her house, it was the perfect way to forget unwanted memories, getting them beaten out of you. Stiles' one condition in relaying information to Chris and Allison Argent was if they would help him train, to be able to protect himself and his father, when or _if_, but mostly when, needed. Allison told Stiles that her dad really respected his courage and drive to do this, and that he'd make an excellent trainee.

Stiles had spent the night outside of Lydia Martin's house, long after Jackson invited himself in, and long after her bedroom light went out. He made it home before his father that morning by just minutes, and he couldn't even bring himself to care. He knew they were sexual beings, Jackson being a wolf, it made him more susceptible, more wanting, or maybe that was just Scott. Stiles didn't care _why_ it happened, just that it did, and all through the morning, when Stiles would shoot the wolfs bane bullets at an innocent tree, he would pretend it was Jackson Whittemore's face. That made Stiles feel better. He even pretended it was Lydia, once, only once, and he missed, so it proved he couldn't actually think of shooting her, ever. After another hour Allison yawned. "I'm exhausted. Want to grab a coffee?" Stiles nodded eagerly. "I'll drive." He mumbled, reaching on her yard table for his keys.

The drive to the coffee shop was peaceful. "You really are doing better than I expected." Allison had admitted sheepishly once in the car. "My dad taught me how to shoot a gun when I was twelve. I'm better at that hand eye stuff than actual physical exertion." Stiles lamented to Allison. She smiled, trying her best to think of Stiles Stilinski holding a gun, and nodded, leaning into the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep. Stiles groaned once they reached main street, seeing how crowded the area was, Stiles vaguely remembered that it was Saturday. "We need to park around back." He explained to Allison who merely nodded, not caring much. The teens left the jeep and tracked it in the hot sun up Jefferson Street, that would open up onto Maine Street at the light dangling from wires on the corner, next to the alleyway. "So do you want to continue to practice, you nearly caught me today." Allison smiled. "Which time was that?" Stiles drawled, squinting into the sun. "The time you knocked me to the ground, or the time you grabbed me by the throat?" He looked at her pointedly. "I said I was sorry, I didn't mean to be so rough." Allison was blushing. Stiles snorted. "In some places that's considered foreplay." He teased, raising an eyebrow at her. Allison giggled lightly. "I know." She deadpanned. Stiles liked this, bantering with someone. It wasn't at all sexual, or had any tension whatsoever. He also liked talking to Allison because she was so different from Lydia,and nothing, from her soft features to dark hair, to her timid and careful voice, nothing resembled Lydia, nothing. And he liked that.

The two were nearing the corner when Allison stopped them, grabbing onto Stiles' bare arm. "What?" He asked, looking around. Allison's eyes were fixed on a point in the alley. "Allison?" Stiles whispered harshly as she walked into the dark area filled with dumpsters and back doors to the shops on Main Street. "Stiles!" She gasped, and he ran to her. "What? What is it? Are you okay?" She wasn't listening, she was staring down at something, or well,someone. A body laid in the alleyway, motionless and bloody. "Oh my god." Stiles hissed, disgusted. "Do you think-?" He started but Allison jumped up, looking around, using her training to help her. "Allison, come on, I'm going to go get Scott! Lets go." Allison shook her head, "You go. I'm not going to leave him." Stiles rubbed the back of his neck in haste. "Allison!" "Go." Her eyes, so much unlike Lydia's darkened, commanding him, and he obeyed, running out of the alley yelling out _"call the police!"_ and scrambled towards his jeep parked down the street. That, Lydia could also do. Make him grant her anything with a blink of an eye. Stiles raced to the McCall residence, frantically wishing for a different life.

Scott gave Stiles a dumbfounded and perplexed look. One that Stiles was all too familiar with. "It was a werewolf?" He asked again, for about the hundredth time. Stiles groaned, trying to obey the speeding limit. "Look, we don't know, we were going to get coffee and Allison found him. I don't know who he is, but he's pretty bloody and his shirt is tore up." Stiles gave a pointed look at Scott. Scott looked away, "Shouldn't there be cop cars?" He asked and Stiles blinked, realizing that he was right. The two got out of the jeep and rushed towards the alley. No one was there, not Allison, not a cop, and not the dead body. Stiles sighed. "Well, where is he?" Scott glared. "I don't..." Stiles started, taking out his cell phone and called Allison. "Hello?" "Allison! Where the hell did you go? Where is the dead guy?" There was a pause. "I took him, my dad says that the police investigating wouldn't be smart. We're keeping him at the morgue, John Doe." She muttered, sighing. "Stiles, if this is what we think it is, then..." Allison started, drifting off. "I know." Stiles licked his lips, looking at Scott who heard the whole conversation. Scott nodded at his best friend. "Alright, see what you can find, call me back." Stiles ended the call and looked at Scott. It was starting, Stiles just prayed they were ready.

"Come on! Quicker Stiles!" Scott called rushing up the pavement and swinging open the door to his workplace. Scott needed answers, after aggressively talking to Derek on the phone as Stiles drove away from Main Street. He drilled Derek, to make sure none of his pack had killed someone, or Peter, for the matter. Derek gave Scott the gripped conclusion that it was what they all feared. Scott never got to see the body, but he smelt it, it wasn't an animal, not of the literal kind anyway that was there, with that man. It was one of his kind. It was a werwolf and now, Scott knew of only one place to go.

Dr. Deaton sat at his desk, a pair of thin glasses hanging low on the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be expecting the boys, because he smiled kindly when they entered, not at all surprised for the late visit, or asking for an explanation, in typical Deaton fashion. He was always vague and held off of explaining many things, until the right time to the boys, and Scott was sick of waiting, he needed to know, and he needed it now.

"Scott, you're not supposed to be in until four o' clock tomorrow." Deaton smiled, that content tone to his voice, filled with wisdom and knowledge. Stiles realized looking at the vet now, that that was the only thing he ever wanted out of this situation. He wanted to hold the power. "We need to talk, I have a lot of questions for you and-" "In time, Scott." Deaton took off his glasses, very slow in all his movement. Stiles sighed. "We actually kind of need some now." Scott moved around the examination table. "Look, they're here, and I know you know _who_ I am talking about. They killed a man today." Scott begged his boss. Deaton looked mildly alarmed. "A man is dead? Who?" Stiles shook his head. "I've never seen him before, but the Argent's took him to the morgue, to examine him." Deaton nodded, accepting this. He sighed and went to his filing cabinet. "A pack of alphas is a rare thing in deed." He talked with his back to the teens. "It's fascinating, how there is a group made up of the most powerful wolves, and having them work together, it takes a lot of swallowed pride." He drawled. "ah, here." He mumbled to himself, shutting the drawer. "Alpha packs are rare, but purposeful." Deaton declared, turning back to Scott and Stiles, setting down the folder he retrieved on the metal examination table. "A pack of Alphas' purpose is to find things of importance. The ones here in Beacon Hills must have narrowed their search to these parts. In no record that I've ever come across has it been stated that they killed a civilian."

Stiles sighed. "He could have been the bad guy, I don't know. Allison and I just found the body." He shrugged. Deaton nodded thoughtfully. "An alpha pack stands for loyalty, and promise. Boys, if they've killed, they will do it again. They are here for a reason, and they will not leave until they are satisfied." Scott rubbed his temple. Stiles gulped. "Cryptic as ever." He muttered under his breath. "Well what can we do?" Scott demanded. "Let the others know." Deaton could only be talking about Derek and his pack. "Tell them to be cautious about who they come in contact with, anything that doesn't feel right probably isn't." Deaton declared. "Now, I have a late meeting, I must be going." He smiled at the boys kindly. "Be careful." He said, his indifferent eyes faltering for less than a moment and sent them away.

Stiles felt even more confused than before. He had a headache from the circles they kept running in. Scott seemed more vibrant, full of determination. "Okay, well I have to go to Derek, I need to fill him and everyone in on this. Can you talk to Allison, and Lydia?" Stiles heart felt like it dropped down to his stomach. "Me? Why me?" Scott sighed. "Because I need to talk to Derek, I just said-" "Can't Jackson tell Lydia later?" Scott pressed his lips together. Stiles didn't even care how shamelessly difficult he was being. "What if Lydia goes out and talks to strangers who happen to be alpha werewolves who want to destroy us all?" Images of Peter Hale attacking Lydia came to mind and he sighed, not at all caring for Scott's dramatized scenario. "Fine. Good luck." Scott nodded and ran into the woods behind the vets office. Stiles stomped to his car, decided to talk to Allison first.

He called, he called a lot, and she wasn't answering. It would have made him nervous if he didn't know how well she could take care of herself. After driving by the dark Argent house, he quickly reverted back towards his own, back towards Lydia's. Stiles bit his nails, what was he supposed to say? Stiles thought about this all the way to Park Drive and then again, all the way up her porch steps to the front door. He felt wrong being there, knowing what happened just a night ago on that porch, in that spotlight. He could see his own silhouette, remembering distastefully how the shadows of Lydia and Jackson's bodies meshed together, lengthening on the brick exterior forming her house, like a movie screen. Stiles took a deep breathe and heard the lock break behind her front door. "Stiles, right?" Mrs. Martin smiled at him. She was a rather beautiful woman as well, she carried herself in the same authoritative way as her daughter, but he had a feeling her mother's kindness wasn't all for show. "Hi, Mrs. Martin. Sorry to come by at such a random time, but-" "Lydia's up in her room, you remember the way, right?" Stiles blinked, just how easy it was with this woman. Definitely less hostile than Lydia. He smiled kindly and walked through the threshold. Mrs. Martin disappeared into the kitchen, Stiles suspected she was cooking, the cry of a kettle left him with his answer as he climbed the steps.

His heart was pounding inside his chest, he could literally feel it vibrate through his whole body. Why should he be nervous? He was totally getting over Lydia Martin. Slowly but surly. Just like his mom used to say. All it took was time. He licked his lips and knocked on her bedroom door. He couldn't forget the way to her if he tried. Stiles heard a faint _come in_ and took a deep breath, letting the air puff up his chest and entered the room. Lydia looked shocked to see him there, and he didn't blame her. "Hi." He gave an awkward wave and Lydia smiled at him while shaking out a white sheet. "What's new on Supernatural this week?" She teased, getting to the point as she tried to stretch out her body to get the sheet perfectly on the opposite side of the bed. "Uh- here, let me.." He mumbled walking to stand on the side of the bed, facing her, only a queen sized mattress between them, and a sea full of highly unbelievable secrets and confusion that would have them both medicated in a second if anyone found out. "Thanks" She smiled again and primped her side of the sheet, making not even a fracture of a wrinkle able to fold through. Stiles liked her meticulousness. "I'm here because-" "I know why you're here." She sighed, grabbing the comforter off the ground. She tossed it in the air over her bed so that it fanned out and signaled Stiles to grab the other end. He caught the soft comforter that was a color of peach mixed with a pumpkins orange, one he had never seen before, not that he'd been in her room enough times to check. "You do?" "It obviously has something to do with werwolves. You wouldn't be here to eat mac and cheese and watch crappy horror movies with me, right?" She cocked an eyebrow, invitingly. Stiles laughed while wetting his lips again. She really was too good at this whole being desirable thing. "That pack of alphas that-" Stiles paused, swallowing hard "-Jackson may have mentioned, yeah, they're here and they killed a guy today, so I'm just being a good Paul Revere and relaying the message to watch yourself." Stiles smiled at her, but she wasn't humored by the joke. She started to collect the pillows that she pushed to the ground before making the bed, annoyance in her demeanor. "What did I say?" Stiles asked, catching on. "Jackson hadn't told me about killer werwolves out for blood in Beacon Hills as of late." Lydia clicked her tongue, throwing the different shades of yellow and brown pillows onto her bed, not at all caring where they landed. He liked these colors, they matched her personality, much better than the purples and pink leather jackets. "Well, we're not sure if they are actually out for blood.." He tried to correct her and was shot a death glare. His voice died out. "Someone is dead?" He nodded. "Then they're out for blood." She ended that conversation by roughly placing the smallest dark green pillow in the center of her bed. She sighed, content that a task was done and walked around the bed to stand in front of Stiles. "What do they want, if not to just reek havoc?" Stiles shrugged looking at the white carpet. "We're not sure just yet." He mumbled. "Oh, so you're back at Mystery Inc." Lydia quipped, under the impression that he was in remission. "What do you mean?" "I-" Lydia paused, not wanting to tell Stiles whom she heard that little tidbit of information from. "I was just told that you didn't come to the meetings anymore." She shrugged. Stiles sighed. "Jackson tell ya that?" Lydia shook her head, "I was there, _you _weren't." She mumbled, still bitter about his absence. "I found better ways to spend my time." "Oh?" Lydia's eyes narrowed, "Doing what, exactly?" "I go for coffee with a friend." Lydia smiled. "A _girlfriend_?" She remembered the waitress from the coffee shop hinting at it. "No, just a friend. I'm sort of in the market for some normal ones these days." Lydia looked down and stepped away from Stiles again.

"So that was all you needed to tell me?" She asked. Stiles nodded, "Look, what I say isn't meant to hurt you Lydia, not ever. That's the last thing I want to do." Lydia looked up at him. "Then why do you do it?" Stiles sighed and paced the length from her bed to her closet once. "Because, you're not taking the hint." He shrugged. "A real role reversal, if you ask me." He licked his lips. "I want to be your friend Lydia, but I don't think I could ever do that, be a friend that maybe we both really deserve, if I can't get over you first." Lydia looked up at him, a light frown on her face. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us." Lydia nodded running her hand up and down his arm once. "I'll be careful Stiles, thank you." Stiles gave a quick smile and walked backwards towards the door. "If anything, anyone doesn't feel right to you, Lydia, you get yourself out of the situation." Lydia sighed and sat at the edge of her bed. "Or, you can call me." Stiles mumbled before leaving. It left Lydia alone, but with her first true smile of the day.


	7. Chapter 7

"Alright, Scott, how you feeling?" Stiles asked, his eyes on the road, but his undivided attention on his best friend. "I'm fine, Stiles." Scott growled. "You sure, buddy, I mean this is the first time you're seeing your ex girlfriend since the breakup. Things are _bound_ to get awkward." Stiles laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Stiles!" Scott snapped. "Sorry!" The teen sheepishly replied turning onto Allison's street. The boys were heading to the Argent's residence to discuss what they found with their initial autopsy of the body. It had been two days and Stiles felt unsettled about the whole thing.

"Stiles, Scott." Mr. Argent's dry voice drawled out their names while opening the door just as slowly. "Hi Chris." Stiles smiled and walked in so naturally it pained Scott. He would never be welcomed in that house, in that family, their business and life. It was another thing he had to think about when it came to Allison and when he'd see her again, for the first time in over a month. He wasn't sure how she was, and he knew that Stiles kept insisting that she was better, that she was more herself, but Scott was still a werewolf and werewolves are what made her lose herself in the first place. Scott feared that his presence there would trigger something in Allison. The boys walked through the parlor and down the hall towards the basement, or makeshift headquarters, whatever way you wanted to look at it. Allison was standing by a board with news clippings and dry erase writing scribbled all over. Stiles immediately walked towards the far end of the room, knowing how both painfully awkward and heart-wrenchingly forbidden this situation was.

Scott's eyes stayed on Allison, she looked like herself again, her hair curly, her outfit bright, and the cautious smile she wore eased Scott's nerves some. "Hi, Scott." She whispered, moving towards him. "Hey, Allison, you look-" "Okay, what does your alpha have to say to us?" Chris Argent asked, his arms bracing the table in front of him. Scott immediately stopped walking towards his daughter and stared at Chris with some sort of left over annoyance. Stiles yawned and pulled out a chair, figuring this was going to be a while. "Derek's not my alpha. I'm my _own _alpha." Scott corrected, Mr. Argent gave him a strained smile in return. "What did you find out about the body?" Stiles asked Allison, desperate to change the subject. Allison nodded laying out pictures of the dead mans pale body on the table. "So, our source at the hospital has confirmed large gashes that are consistent with the effects of an animal attack." Allison spoke with authority. "Do you know who he is?" Scott asked. The Argent's looked to Scott's side. "Oh, that's my job buddy." Stiles cleared his throat while patting Scott's shoulder. "There hasn't been any missing persons reports filed in the last three days, and the police radio hasn't spoke of any unusual activity. It's literally like this guy came out of thin air. I looked up missing persons online but it's pretty slim and mostly females." Allison placed a hand on her hip in thought. "He didn't have any identification on him." She licked her lips. "Do you think this is a set up?" Mr. Argent shook his head at his daughter. Scott felt the same way.

"So we have no idea who this man is, and we don't know why he was attacked." Chris Argent clarified with deflected eyes. "Actually" Scott started, clearing his throat. "We've talked to Deaton, he says that Alpha packs are rare and their only purpose is to find things." "_Find things_?" Allison asked horsey. "Like what? Weapons?... Answers?-" "People." Stiles mumbled, interrupting Mr. Argent as he racked off the many obvious things that a deadly pack of Alphas could desire. "Derek? Derek's the alpha. They could be after him." Allison offered, biting her thumb. "No, not Derek. They know where he is. If they wanted him, it be too easy to find him." Scott shook his head. "Then what?" Stiles whispered, confused and scared and wanted to call his dad to see where he was. Having these monsters so close to home kept a constant unsettling feelings over Stiles.

"Look, maybe this isn't even the alpha pack." Scott mumbled, frustration in his voice. Stiles recognized this, way more than the determined voice from the other day. This was Scott and it wasn't making Stiles feel any better because he was betting on Scott to be his superhero. Mr. Argent gave a hard look at Allison and she bit her lip while taking out one last picture. The thin paper fluttered to the table with a soundless tap and the teen boys hovered over it. "Holy shit.." Stiles muttered under his breath and Scott squeezed his hands into tight, iron fists. "That's their symbol, isn't it?" Allison asked her ex boyfriend. The look the two shared could power New York City in a summer blackout. Stiles felt out of place witnessing it. The way they worked off each other, it was something he missed greatly. It almost felt like old times, the three of them working together, a pack all their own.

Scott fumbled for his cell phone, scrolling through it for a moment before sliding it across the metal table. Allison grabbed it, looking at the picture Scott had saved. _That_ symbol, on the Hale house door. She took a breath through her nose and looked at him, ignoring the urge to run to him, hug him, let him comfort her, like she could see he wanted to do. It was all in his eyes. What was in hers? Fear? Allison shuttered to think. She wanted to go back to who she was, the sweet, polite, less blood thirsty Allison, but never did she want to feel weak and scared again. Scott seemed to understand that. Stiles picked up the photograph of the pale lifeless body of the nameless man from the alley. Carved into his back was the marking that Derek had relayed to Scott to be associated with the alpha pack. It reminded Stiles of Derek's tattoo, the three swirls at the top of his back. This was different, more pronounced, a lot rougher. The blood was cleaned up from the large knife marks, or _claw_ marks; Stiles shivered involuntarily, but there was no mistaking the jagged-straight lines that branched out of a triangle at the core. It took up most of the mans back, and Stiles own skin throbbed with the slightest idea of how painful that would be.

"You know what this means now, Scott, don't you?" Mr. Argent spoke up, collecting the photographs and coolly glaring at the teenager. "You're going to get involved." Scott mumbled, but Stiles and Allison both noticed that he sounded almost relieved. "You two ready for a training session?" Chris looked at the two teens on the other side of the table. Scott looked at Stiles accusingly. Stiles licked his lips but nodded at Allison's father, trying his best to ignore his best friends judgment.

Lydia Martin flipped through the channels on her large plasma screen TV. She wasn't sticking to one station long enough to see what was actually on, she was just trying to keep herself busy. Her boredom had spiked that day to a degree that made her desperate enough to walk around the mall alone. Not that Lydia would actually ever do that. She just thought about it. Even got dressed with the intent, but she ended up on the couch in the living room three ours ago with a bowl of strawberries and a can of whip cream. Whip cream reminded her of Stiles, she thought again while bringing the nozzle to her lips and tilting down til her mouth was filled. She didn't' even know why she remembered that particular memory, but as she went to lick some cream off of one of her strawberries, she remembered that time in fifth grade when she accidentally shot the cream onto his face while making an ice cream Sunday, and everyone laughed at him. Lydia licked her lips, remembered feeling so bad about getting him teased that she kissed his cheek, whip cream and all, and told him he was sweet. Lydia finished the entire bottle, obviously. She was getting frustrated. Everything reminded her of Stiles, memories of their childhood that she either repressed or didn't care much about until now filled her head, his laugh filled her ears. She wished she hadn't taken him for granted. The other night when he had come to warn her about yet another threat, he seemed different, mature, _manly_. He was changing and it hurt her that he was better off without her in his life. He was so nice about it too. He _should_ have told her that she was just a bitch and he deserved better. But he didn't, and Lydia appreciated that, no matter how many times either of them thought it.

Her mom walked in a few minutes after the evidence of her whip cream binge was discard of. Lydia was wiping her hands when Mrs. Martin strolled through the kitchen archway with tall paper bags. "Would you grab the rest sweetheart?" She asked brightly, already unpacking the coffee. "Sure." Lydia sighed and walked out her front door, Prada stopping on the porch to wait for her. Lydia jogged down her driveway and went for one of the last two bags. Before she could grab it, a hand was on her waist and her heart started to pound in alarm. "Hey beautiful." The voice whispered in her ear and Lydia spun around, a hard smack landing on Jackson's chest. "Ow? What was that for?" He asked rubbing the spot that could not have hurt the big macho werwolf. "Jackson! What are you doing? You scared the hell out of me!" Lydia glared disapprovingly. "Sorry." His eyes softened. "I was jogging with my trainer and I saw you, thought I'd surprise you." He shrugged, figuring it wasn't the greatest idea. Lydia smiled halfheartedly at him and let her eyes wander to the other side of the street where a large man stared at her interestedly. "That's him?" She asked. Jackson turned around, nodding at the man and let go of Lydia's arm. "Yeah, Lionel. He's working my ass off." Jackson laughed. "I didn't know you had a session today." "Spur of the moment." Lydia nodded. "Well, I better get these in the house." Jackson nodded, kissing her cheek and walking down the driveway. "I'll call you after!" He promised and crossed the street. The trainer, Lionel's, eyes never left Lydia. She smiled kindly at the man and walked into her house with the groceries.

"So, were you even going to tell me that you finally chose a side?" Scott asked as Stiles drove him home that night. Stiles sighed while rubbing his temple. "Last time I checked, we're all on the same side, dude." Scott scoffed. "They're hunters, they're the enemy!" "You love Allison, you know it is never going to be that easy, Scott." Stiles glared at a red light. "Look, I'm just trying not to get myself killed, they're helping me. I feel like I am actually useful." He wouldn't look at Scott, he hated feeling inadequate. "Stiles.." "No. You have the whole werwolf thing going on, I have nothing. I can't protect my dad or even myself. They had a plan b and I'm taking it." Scott sighed. "Does this mean you're going to be a hunter?" "No." Stiles laughed. "It wasn't like I had to sign a ten year contract man, they were happy to help me. They understand where I'm coming from." "and I don't?" Scott snapped. "No, you don't, actually." Scott looked out the window. "It's not your fault, you're just different now, you can do crazy cool things and I'm stuck on the figurative sidelines of life. It's okay, I just want to feel useful and if I can put a bullet into one of those son of a bitches, then I'm going to do it, Scott. I want this to end, I want to feel safe, get on with my life. I never thought I had to explain that to you." Scott nodded. "You don't, I just didn't think you'd ever go to Argent for help." "We _both_ did." Stiles whispered stopping outside of Scott's house. Scott got out of the jeep without another word and Stiles let his head fall back onto the headrest. He was losing it, losing his friend, his mind, his control on this _thing_ he had involving Lydia Martin. He was right, wasn't he? Stiles wasn't choosing any side but his own. He deserved that much. Didn't he?

"So, where did you meet this guy?" Lydia asked Jackson over the phone that night. He had called like he promised, only _several_ house after he normally would have. He had been with Lionel. "Who, Lionel?" Jackson asked, Lydia could tell he wasn't paying close attention. Probably on X Box with Danny. "Yes, _Lionel,_ Jackson." Jackson sighed. "At the gym, Lydia. We were both lifting and he was impressed at how much I could do.." Jackson drifted off smugly, showing off no doubt. "He said he could train me, get me into the best shape I could be in, and I mean, I can do pretty much anything now so.." Lydia frowned. There were new werewolves in Beacon Hills, some innocent man had died the other day and Jackson was seriously sitting on the other end of the call gloating about how amazing his life was now. Lydia liked that he finally felt as if he belonged, that Jackson was becoming the man he was always meant to be. He was destined for greatness, but at what cost? He hadn't even mentioned the alpha pack to her, or the man, and she tried not to think about how he never even told her to be careful, not like Stiles had. Jackson knew Lydia was a capable woman, she told herself, but most of her knew it wasn't on the top of his priority list, Lydia wasn't a priority.

But she had to stay in control, for Jackson's sake. "Hey, I'm going to head to bed soon. I have an early session with Lionel again tomorrow." "You're seeing him again?" Lydia asked skeptically. There was something about him... it was in the way he looked at her that she just didn't like. "I don't really trust him Jackson." She heard herself saying, despite knowing his comeback. "You never even talked to him." "It's just a feeling." "Well you're wrong, he's cool. Don't worry so much." Jackson laughed. Don't worry so much? They could all die at some point this summer, life was getting harder and harder, eleventh grade was the least of her worries. "Goodnight, love you." He mumbled. She could hear it in his voice, he really was tired. "Goodnight, Jackson." She mumbled disappointed and hung up.

She was told to trust her instinct. That's what Stiles had said her. If something didn't feel right, it wasn't, and that random trainer of Jackson's wasn't sending off a friendly vibe. Lydia had the overwhelming feeling that they were all being watched. She got up from her bed and closed her curtains tight. It made her feel a little better and she laid down to fall asleep, pushing the thought of werwolves and bright blue eyed boyfriends and twitchy little boys that tasted of whip cream out of her head.


	8. Chapter 8

**This one is sort of short... sorry! It's a filler, but every story needs one of those, right?**

His heart was beating harshly inside his chest, he felt like at any moment it would explode, give away his location. He looked beyond the tree he was hiding behind, listening for any breaks on the ground or shuffling in the bushes surrounding him. It was safe to say that the woods were the creepiest place in the whole wide world and he never, ever wanted to be caught in them defenseless. He licked his lips and shrugged off the hard bark of the thick tree he was concealing himself with and ran into a thick grove that he knew no one could see him from. He looked down at his clothing, cursing that he didn't prepare well enough for this. His head was pounding and he felt some hot sweat bunch on his forehead, ready to trickle down. It was too damn hot out. "Stiles?" The voice sung. "I know you're in here." He gulped, trying to stay perfectly still. He saw the figure, cloaked in black coming passed his hideout, and knew it was now or never.

He sprang from his spot and jumped her. The two tossed on the dirty ground, desperate to hold their dominance. Stiles felt his strength slip but didn't want to think of that just now. It all happened so fast, he was on the ground, seeing the canopy's of the tree tops and then, like a freaking miracle, held control, pushing his opponent down into the leaves and holding her there. For a while, the only thing Stiles could hear was his own rugged breathing mixing with hers. The looks they shared were of shock and confusion. Then, after what seemed like an hour, she cracked a smile. "You can let go of me now, Stiles." Stiles blinked, a sheepish blush creeping up his neck and he moved back, rolling onto his knees straddling her. "Sorry." He laughed. Allison was grinning, propping herself on her hands laughed at him. "You were fantastic!" She squealed. "You really did it!" Stiles grinned too, Allison's smile too inviting. "You promise, you didn't hold back?" Allison quickly shook her head, the smile still broadening. "Yes!" He exclaimed. He jumped to his feet and helped her off the ground. She immediately flung her arms around his neck and he lifted her off the dirt with all the built up enthusiasm and twirled her in the thick hot woods until all his negative skepticism for himself vanished, to cling to the deep green leaves around them.

They had to look insane. Two crazy teenagers embracing in the woods, but Stiles didn't care. He placed Allison down and literally skipped out of the dark forest and into the burning sun of her backyard. Allison followed, picking out small branches from her hair. "That was freaking awesome!" He laughed again and Allison rolled her eyes. "The novelty wears off, eventually." She teased, but Stiles knew that it didn't, that Allison had to get a thrill every single time she overpowered somebody without having an ounce of supernatural greatness behind her. "So, the usual?" She cocked an eyebrow at him and Stiles nodded, following Allison inside her home.

Stiles could see it now, not fully, not like Scott had, but he could understand it, all the anger and desperation that Scott felt when he found out that Allison and Stiles were spending time together. She was beautiful, _beyond_ beautiful. It wasn't like Stiles was going to deny that, it was just that Stiles had never thought of her as being beautiful, it always came second. He thought of her as strong, and fierce, and filled with this compassion and beauty within that never skimmed her extraordinary surface. He loved that he kept finding out new things about her, and that their friendship was based on more than a few common friends. They had an understanding, a bond, a grounds for a relationship that was based off of trust, respect and similar experiences. Stiles didn't have that with many people and he was glad that he could share things with her, that they could be as honest and mellow dramatic as they wanted together, and really stretch the ways of how their friendship was supposed to go, and where it was heading.

The sun was hot, July's cursed heat lingering heavily over Beacon Hills. Stiles was so wrapped up in what they were going to do about the alpha pack, and his new fight with Scott, and his three month plan to get over Lydia Martin that he completely forgot what day it was. That was until he and Allison made it to Main Street and saw all the reds, whites, and blues, strung up alone the sidewalks and on window displays. They looked at each other. Both realizing that life was going on without them, and whether they liked it or not, it wasn't going to wait. Stiles went to to open the door to Jo's when he found that it was locked up tight._ "What?"_ He cried, completely shattered. His craving for coffee had worsened. "It's _closed?_ It's never closed!" Stiles groaned and Allison cupped her hands on the tinted glass, peering inside. She sighed. "It's closed, Stiles." She shrugged. "Probably for the holiday." Stiles glared at a Happy Fourth of July banner tied to a streetlamp. "Life sucks." He muttered under his breath, but Allison heard it.

"What's this about? Not having a cup of coffee isn't the end of the world." Stiles looked at her blankly, like she didn't' understand him but then sighed to himself and rested his back against the hot glass of the empty coffee shop. "It's Scott." He drawled, looking at the street. Allison stood straighter. "It's about the other night, when my dad mentioned training, right?" Stiles nodded. "I never told him, because I really didn't think it was a big deal." He looked at her honestly. "But then, he started going on and on about how I'm choosing sides, and he was being ridiculous." Allison stood next to him. "He thinks you want to be a hunter?" She asked quietly. "Kinda, I told him that it wasn't like that, and that we're all on the same side, in case he forgot. And he clearly did." Allison looked down. "I think it was all just hard on him, coming to us for help." Stiles looked at her. "Seeing you again." He smiled. Allison looked up, hopeful. "Oh _please_, like you couldn't tell." Stiles rolled his eyes and was granted a smile. "How was it for you?" He asked, and it dawned on him that he never really did ask her, before now. She shrugged looking at him with a sad smile. "I know it's for the best, but-" She paused, not knowing what to say next, and Stiles nodded, sighing out a _'yeah' _because he did know what she would say, once she found her words. Allison rested her head on his hot shoulder and Stiles boldly went for her hand. It wasn't at all romantic, and he knew Allison didn't think of it that way either, it was just kind of weird, but he wasn't letting go. They needed each other, and Stiles figured lamely to himself, that if the world was going to crash down around them, holding her hand, keeping them from separating, getting lost, losing this faith, was the least he could do? He would. "Come on, lets go to Starbucks." He grinned and started walking back towards his jeep parked down at the corner, in the same spot that Lydia's was parked last month.

That was when they saw _them._ Stiles groaned and Allison stiffened, alarmed and on edge and Stiles knew they sensed it, it was the only reason he could figure for the huge smile spread across Erica Reyes' bright red lips. She wore a flowing American flag tank top and the shortest shorts he had ever seen. Her legs looked endless and Stiles had to control where his eyes went. Erica smiled at him, really getting into the holiday spirit. "Hi guys." She sneered, her eyes went to their laced fingers and Stiles only knew where her mind was going and what words she would be relaying this message to Scott with. Allison let go of Stiles hand and crossed her arms over her chest, defensively. "Erica. Issac." Her eyes had to travel a little higher to see him and he smiled down at her, his eyes narrow. "What brings you two here?" Stiles asked the betas. "Shopping." Erica answered, glaring at Stiles as if he made a mistake, or chose a side. He realized, slowly.

"Scott told us about what you and your father found." Issac was the one to speak, and his words and actions weren't as aggressive as Erica's. Allison nodded, her hostility deflating. "Thank you, Allison, for helping us." Issac smiled, one of those movie star looks that made Stiles' skin crawl, but he knew that Issac was the mature one, he understood a lot more, could empathizes a lot more than Erica, or Boyd, or even Scott at this point. Allison smiled at him. "We're all on the same side." Her eyes flickered to Stiles' for a moment and then back at Issac. Erica didn't miss a beat, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way at Stiles who ducked his head. "So will we see you at the meeting tonight?" Issac asked. "Both of you?" Erica added. "I don't think so.." Allison shrugged, trying to give a polite smile. Stiles nodded, though he was never informed of a meeting. "Well, see you soon." Issac smiled. Allison nodded at him. "Happy Fourth of July." Erica smiled, catty and conniving. It was so different than what Stiles had remembered from the beginning of the summer, when she helped him wash his jeep. The blonde betas walked away and Allison's eyes widened as she turned back to Stiles. "I'm sorry, I have no idea why she was being like that." Stiles shook his head, looking towards the retreating werewolves that walked down Main Street as if it was a Paris runway. "I do." Allison smiled while grabbing his hand again. Stiles furrowed his brows. "She is _totally_ into you." The brunette laughed while dragging Stiles towards his jeep.

"Lydia, we are going to the Cambridge's for their annual BBQ. Where on earth are you?" Mrs. Martin scolded quietly at her daughter over the phone. Lydia completely forgot about the mayors annual Fourth of July BBQ, but she wasn't in the mood to put on a pretty red dress that matched her pretty red hair and frolic with the most connected and envied members of the Beacon Hills community. "Mom, I'm skipping it this year, I'm sorry, but there is something that I really need to do." "Are you alright?" She heard the worry, it was the same as all the other times Lydia didn't want to do something she normally would have loved. Dates with Jackson, rides to the beach house with her father and his new girlfriend; Lydia was losing her taste for many of her favorite things lately. "I'm fine, I just, I need to see Jackson." She mumbled. "Oh" Mrs. Martin sighed. "Alright sweetheart, if you feel up to it, stop by, bring Jackson if you'd like." "Okay, mom. I love you." "Love you too, sweetheart." Mrs. Martin smiled into the receiver and hung up. Lydia sighed to herself. She would allow one mopey moment to grace her existence before she would do what needed to be done. She couldn't ignore this any longer.

She reached the Whittemore residence on the other end of town and stormed up his long uphill walk towards his front door. After about a dozen knocks she finally heard someone come to the door, that someone _having_ to be Jackson, his parents' cars weren't in the driveway. He looked at her pretty surprised, sleep heavy in his eyes, weighing down his whole body. It made it harder to yell at him when he looked so fragile, but then the scars from the other night tingled and she knew just how capable he was of being stronger than her and she smiled condescending. "We need to talk."


	9. Chapter 9

**So... I know this is a Stiles/Lydia story and I've sort of been neglecting them together much, but I've been trying to branch them off, seeing how both are doing on their own, developing separately. Not sure how well I've done, but this chapter is ALL them, and I sort of love it and hope I didn't butcher it. :) I also rewrote this chapter about five times... still not sure I got it just how I wanted it... you decide? **

She knew what she was _supposed_ to do, but she just couldn't anymore. Lydia declared, to herself while driving through a stop sign. She wasn't sure if it was even there at this point, her tears fogged up her vision, clouding her from _seeing_ clearly. She would have gotten into an accident if she wasn't already in front of the house. She didn't know why she ended up there, out of all the places in Beacon Hills, this is the house she goes to. Lydia didn't want to think about it any further, stepping out of her car and slamming the door closed. Though she knew she'd always end up there. No matter where she went that night, that house would be her last stop. She officially hit rock bottom, and that was saying something since four months ago her mind completely derailed and she was at the mercy to a psychopathic dead werewolf.

Jackson was an ass, he wasn't the boy she fell in love with freshman year, he had changed. Lydia was too sick of dealing with it, the mood swings, the constant tension. He promised he wouldn't hurt her, and yet he did just that. She wished it was just a scratch this time, her eyes flickered down to her forearm, four ugly red lines scraped down the pale skin, so noticeable, she didn't even think about hiding it before right now. Lydia pulled the long black sleeve down to her knuckles. It was breezy enough on that fourth day of July to not get a heatstroke in it. But it wasn't the markings that upset her, sure they stung but his words cut deeper. She was nothing. Lydia Martin was nothing in Jackson Whittemore's eyes and it hurt. He had no respect for her, believing wholeheartedly that she was cheating on him, that she smelt different, felt different, _was_ different. But then Lydia looked where she was and started to think maybe Jackson was onto something. That didn't matter now. He called her all sorts of words she knew he couldn't mean. They were in love, but he sensed it, just like she was warned. Just like what she was told to stop. He sensed her feelings shifting, but that wasn't Lydia's fault. He was near unbearable. Lydia pushed it all out of her mind along with some stray tears and knocked loudly on the door.

"Lydia? What are you doing here?" Stiles asked weakly. He wasn't quiet sure if she was actually in front of him, fireworks going off in back of her like one of those backdrop you have on picture day, or not. His dreams kept slipping into the unbelievably lately, and he wasn't sure if he ever woke up from his nap. He nearly missed her tear filled eyes. He hadn't seen her so low since the night Jackson was turned. She looked terrible. No other word jumped to mind, which was odd for Stiles. Maybe he was getting over her. "Look-" She started, her voice slipping, it was scratchy and he could tell she had been sobbing for more than the seconds it took him to answer the door. "Lydia?" He mumbled, the habitual surge to care for her spiking. "I know you said you wanted nothing to do with me, but I couldn't think of anywhere else to go." She hiccuped and Stiles' defense weakened. "Come in." He sighed, moving out of the doorway, letting her walk through. He expected her to sit on the couch or stand in the hall looking awkwardly at him, but he wasn't sure why he was so surprised to see her saunter up the stairs, to his room. It was such a Lydia move, he quickly followed, only tripping slightly.

"So, what's wrong?" He asked, it had been at least ten minutes and Lydia just stared at the snowboarder painted on his far wall. He felt almost embarrassed about it, his mom had had it painted on around his eighth birthday, when Stiles had his heart set on becoming a professional snowboarder, go to the Olympics and become famous. It was a stretch, but he was taught to dream big. Lydia was smiling at it now, and it eased his worry, some. "Jackson and I got into a fight." She mumbled, not wanting to tell him _why_ she was there. "And you come to me?" He asked quizzically. "Yeah. What does that tell you?" She asked with a watery smile. A joke playing inside her head. Stiles licked his lips and laughed awkwardly. He puffed some air in his cheeks and let it out slowly while sitting next to her. "About?" He asked quietly. The only other sound was the faint indication of fireworks in the background. It was only about eight and they were already becoming an annoyance to Stiles. "A mess of things." She wouldn't look at him, just picked at the pink polish on her nails. "He made me feel worthless." She whispered, her eyes wincing, remembering how harsh he was, how dark and blaring his eyes were, how sincerely honest he was while he gritted his teeth and rushed her out.

"I thought about what you said the other day, about how I need to be careful and trust my gut." She started, her hands held tight together. "-and Jackson never even mentioned that to me. He never told me about those alphas in town, he never even brought it up." She looked at him with teary eyes. "It was like he didn't even care." She whispered. Stiles wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, "Well anyway" She looked back down, ignoring the intensity that the two had just shared with that one glance. It reminded Stiles of Allison and Scott and he felt foolish. She was here to vent to a friend, no matter how many times he told her he_ didn't _want that title. "Jackson met this guy, a personal trainer and they've been working out like every day." She sniffed. "I don't trust the guy. I had a bad feeling, just like what you said!" She spoke louder, shuffling her body on his bed until she was facing him, her eyes glowing with the thoughts Jackson didn't want to hear. "So I told him as much, told him about my bad feelings, more than once, told him that he didn't even care if I was safe, and know what he said, Stiles?" Stiles shook his head. "He accused me of cheating on him." She glared. "I mean, is he crazy? Sure he's a pain in the ass and he's rushing me into things that he agreed to wait on, but still, _cheat_ on him?"

Stiles licked his lips, his heart rate speeding up. She sounded so applaud at the accusation but Stiles remembered quite vividly, the time when she _did_ cheat on Jackson, with Stiles' best friend. He swallowed hard, pushing that memory out of his mind. It was one of his worst. "Why would he think that?" "I don't know." She sighed. "I don't say I love you anymore, and I compare him to you a little too much.." She admitted with a blush, "-but I can't break up with him." Stiles felt his hope rise and plummet within a single breath, an art that only Lydia Martin seemed to perfect. She compared Jackson _to_ Stiles? That had to mean something. It had to, she just couldn't see it. Maybe she didn't want to. But she couldn't break up with him? That just seemed stupid. Everything she was saying clearly signaled a breakup in the near future. Why was she fighting it?

"_If _things aren't working out, _why_ stay with him?" He asked, fighting desperately to keep his voice at a normal level. "Because-" She looked at him, like it was obvious, and just like that, before his eyes she folded back into herself, placed a wall between them. "Lydia, come on. You can tell me anything." He reminded her and she bit her lip. "I can't Stiles." She sighed sadly. "You'd look at me so differently, and I don't know if I can take that." She admitted with a odd smile on her face. Stiles thought of everything she could possibly confess to and the only thing that came to mind was Peter Hale, all the lies and twisted secrets he fed her. It was the turning point for him to get over her and Stiles wasn't sure if he wanted her to finally confide in him. If she did, what else would he have to hold onto? What else could he use as his own little anchor to get over her?

"I've done something horrible, Stiles and I don't know how to undo it, I don't think I can." She started. Stiles panicked, wanting to make her stop and yet knowing that everything she was holding in could really help them all. "I was the one that resurrected Peter Hale. Me. I let him into my mind and I did things for him that I never would have done. He was the one that told me about Jackson and how my love for him could save his life, and I used you to make it happen." She frowned regrettably at Stiles who looked away. The truth he knew finally out.

"I thought it was over, that he'd leave me alone, finally." She squeezed her eyes shut. "But he found me, at the stupid house in the woods and-and-" She paused, trying not to cry in front of Stiles. "What? Lydia, what did he do?" She shook her head and took a shaky breath. She was done being _that_ girl. "He told me if I broke up with Jackson it would cause him to spiral out of control and become that lizard again." She looked down. It really did sound stupid when she said it out loud. Peter made it sound so life altering and troubled. He had the power to make her knees shake and tremble with the thought of ruining Jackson's life. "Hey" Stiles whispered compassionately, placing a hand delicately on her thigh. "You really can't trust him Lydia, everything he says is a lie." Stiles Stilinski was making her knees shake for a whole different reason. "How can you be sure?" She whispered, looking deep into the tawny color of his eyes. Stiles looked away. He couldn't be, not entirely sure. Peter Hale was nothing if not full of surprises. "I don't know, but Jackson turning back into the kanima just because you want to break up with him sounds pretty ridiculous. No, there needs to be another reason why he doesn't want you two breaking up." Stiles looked at his carpet, his mind deep in thought.

Lydia stared at his profile, he really was beautiful, and not in the obvious, _look-at-me_ way Jackson was. You had to take your time with Stiles, had to figure out everything about him, all the little things that made up the boy, no, the _man_ sitting beside her, to really, truly be able to appreciate him for all that he was. It could even take a person ten years, she realized. Jackson wasn't wrong with his assumption earlier that day, but she never really doubted that he was. Ever since Stiles rejected her in May something changed between them, she wasn't sure if he noticed, but she did, she couldn't stop noticing. She wanted his attention as much as she wanted to make him smile. She felt terrible about how she used him, lied to him about Peter Hale, ran right to Jackson when Stiles had always been right there, he didn't need to die to love her so truly. And that's all Lydia really wanted, she just wanted someone to love her, to tell her to be careful, to call her out on all her dramatic bullshit and fight her on things that no one else would care about. Lydia liked the sarcasm, the fidgeting, the adoration. She liked Stiles Stilinski and she wanted to laugh because she was, actually, too late.

"Well, maybe Peter thinks that Jackson wouldn't be such a liability if he-" Stiles turned to Lydia, his eyes finding hers, smiling at him, kindly, like she was seeing him for the very first time. Did he miss something? "What?" He asked quietly. "You really are too good." She muttered with a sigh, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "What are you-?" "You told me to leave you alone and I haven't listened. All summer I've been trying to get you to cave, to be my friend, just so I can continue to screw with your mind. I am such a horrible person." She looked down, a mix between a frown and a pout on her full, colorless lips. "Hey" He whispered grabbing her hand. "You aren't a horrible person, you just-" But Stiles couldn't finish his sentence, Stiles lost all track of thought.

On Lydia's flushed arm he saw evidence of her and Jackson's fight. The black shirt she wore didn't hide the large angry scratches well enough. Stiles pulled up the sleeve, seeing that the four claw sized streaks went from the base of her elbow to her wrist. They were dark and scabbing and he ignored her as she tried to pull away from his touch. He softly touched one of the lines. He heard her hiss. "He did this to you?" His voice was ragged, trying not to lose his temper. "Stiles, it isn't what you think." "It's not?" He scoffed, looking up at her, his eyes dark. "No." She shook her head, feeling ashamed of_ how_ she got those. He hadn't seen the other arm, the ones from that day, and she was glad. He let go of her arm and stood from his bed.

"You have to break up with him now, Lydia. He hurt you. That isn't acceptable." Stiles was turned away from her, his hands in fists at his side. "Stiles, look-" "No. You look, Lydia. You can use me as that shoulder to cry on, you can say all these kind things that don't mean a damn thing, but I refuse to watch you self destruct because of Jackson." Lydia sighed. "Stiles, what if Peter is right? What if he turns back into the kanima?" Lydia jumped up from his bed, standing before him. "So he turns back into it!" Stiles shrugged. "I don't care. I care about you, not him." Lydia looked away. "_I _care about him." She stood her ground. "And therein lies the problem." Stiles smiled without any sense of happiness. Lydia could literally feel the cold he was giving off. He was right, of course he was right. But what was she supposed to do? Jackson made a mistake, he had said some horrible things to her, but he didn't mean them, couldn't mean them. Jackson loved her and she loved him. But standing there, facing Stiles like this, she really could be persuaded.

Stiles sighed and turned away from her, walking around his room absentmindedly. Lydia wanted to say something to make him feel better, she really felt like this was her fault, that she was only holding him back. "I guess... you know, I'm just gonna go." Lydia mumbled heading towards his closed door, her head hanging in shame that Stiles couldn't possibly grasp. "Lydia, wait!" Stiles called. He knew it was a bad idea, that he should really let her leave, walk away from this mess of a situation she caused, but that was the most pathetic part, he really didn't give a damn. She would always be that_ thing_. That one thing that adults would talk about or lyrics would express. She was his yearning, and his passion and the song stuck in his head. She was the only person in this whole world that could make him pray for the answers to get over her and keep the faith to hold on another day. He could think of her, and promise himself he could live without her, while fully knowing that if she showed up on his doorstep again, he'd let her in with open arms. She was that thing. The thing that everyone wants but no one is ever completely ready for. And, Lydia was the only thing that never made Stiles doubt he was alive.

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. He sighed and walked over to her. "Lydia.." Stiles whispered, his voice so soft, it was like a cushion for Lydia's thoughts. Stiles cupped her cheek, stroking the pale skin lightly. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't think of any words that could comfort her at this moment. He was amused with himself, having a beautiful girl, one that he had been in love with for so long, all alone in his empty bedroom and he couldn't muster the nerve to do anything more that hold her face like a piece of priceless glass between his hands. Lydia was surprised, not expecting this, not expecting him to be so forthcoming with emotion, because he was radiating emotion, she could feel it all the way through his fingertips. Lydia's look was smoldering, letting on that she wasn't refusing any attention that he was ready to give her. The bright greens of her eyes darkened simultaneously with each brush of his thumb, making Stiles wonder if her eyes weren't always that dark and hungry.

This, this right here was exactly what Jackson had been yelling at her that afternoon. Her green eyes looked deep into his brown hues, the gold of a setting sun and rich browns like molten chocolate swirling and mixing together making it clear that he was feeling whatever this was too, it wasn't just her. Lydia finally realized. This was exactly what she wanted, her tears had dried the instant Stiles touched her, his hand on her face gave her the strength to clear the denial and the shadows of the past from the front of her mind, it was like a light went on, and Stiles was bathed in a spotlight that was teasing her for being so oblivious.

He had imagined this many times before, in day dreams that made him lose track of time, and in nightmares where she would disappear in a cruel and gentle smoke that had him wake panting, like he was suffocating. But she wasn't bursting into ash, nor was she making any attempt to leave. She was here, and she was here for him, not for a plan to save her boyfriend, and not for a petty favor from one of their friends. Lydia Martin was at the will of Stiles Stilinski and he had never felt more frightened by anything in his life.

"So..." She whispered, her eyes closing once his thumb rolled down the side of her face lethargically, tracing the outline of her jawbone. "What would you like me to say?" His voice was just as gentle, feeling her small hands balling up the hem of his tee shirt. "Say you want to kiss me." His eyes snapped open wide. It surprised her. Part of Stiles thought it was a trick, that this was the chase and he was losing momentum to run any further. The other part of him thought she was vulnerable and was just looking for that release, but there was no part of Stiles that believed that she actually could feel anything like that towards him. This was all just a game. He pulled his hand away and she frowned at the loss of contact. "Stiles? What's wrong?" Stiles backed away, not looking into her eyes.

He could live with the memory of her, he could go day by day and say that he was over Lydia Martin and fall asleep thinking of her green hues hungry and determined, boring into his. He could live with that, but not with this. "Lydia, you're right, I think you should leave." "What?" She scoffed. "You can go home now, have a laugh about this in the morning with Jackson or whoever." Stiles rubbed his hands together. "You won, okay, just like we both knew you would." "What's that? What did I win?" She asked, dejected. "I'll never get over you." He sighed. "Is that what you want to hear, Lydia? Is it? That I am in love with you and not a damn thing I do seems to be able to change that?" Lydia looked down. They've been here before, fighting battles from different places. Nothing had changed from May till now. Nothing. "I don't want to hear that Stiles." She crossed her arms. "No?" He laughed humorlessly. "Could have fooled me." He spat, running a hand through his buzz cut. "Why are you so oblivious?" She mumbled, in shock of his short comings. "Oblivious to what?" He tossed, his arms held out on the sides of him. "I don't know what else to do!" He yelled at her. "Do this!" She mumbled back huskily, and charged for him.

Stiles was in a daze. A stupor of confusion and the warm scent of honey. Lydia's mouth was hot against his and he had to bend down a little ways to get a good angle on her lips, but none of it mattered. It didn't matter that this was his first_ real _kiss or that he was freaking out inside. She couldn't hear his heartbeat, nor could he hear hers. They were safe with their own emotions, and it was comforting. Lydia's hands left his smooth face, knowing he wouldn't pull away and wrapped one arm around his neck, the other letting her nails dig into the skin of his bicep. Stiles' arms went around her waist, imprisoning her in the most delicious way. She broke away from him, breathing heavily, her chest rising hard against his. Stiles' face held a look of pure confusion and a little ecstasy. "No games?" He whispered, his voice had that husky, raw sound that hers had only moments before the kiss. "I would never..." She panted, her eyes never leaving his. Green on brown, like the forest the two seemed to be spending all their time in, the forest that had etched off the perimeter of their town for as long as the two have known. Stiles licked his lips. "Well, that was not how I pictured our first kiss." He panted. Lydia licked her lips, removing her arms from his neck slowly. "Would you believe me if I said me neither?" Stiles almost smiled. Had she honestly thought about kissing him before?

"About Jackson-" Lydia started, knowing that she could never go back on this now. She had kissed Stiles, she couldn't ignore the meaning of it, nor did she want to. It was a pleasant surprise. He was gentle and sweet and she could feel his doubt and skepticism literally burn off his body in the heat of that kiss. It was nothing like she had experienced and it scared her. Stiles wasn't meeting her eye, but it was because he was looking for something. That was when she heard his cell phone ring, it was a generic sound that brought Lydia back to the present. "Oh!" She muttered, picking it up from his dresser. "It's Scott!" She looked at him. He nodded at her to answer. She put the phone on speaker, walking over to Stiles. "Hey-" Stiles started to yell, but was immediately interrupted.

"Stiles! Look I know you hate Lydia right now and I get it, I do. She's a bitch and I'm glad you're getting over her, but she's not answering her phone and I kind of need you to get over to her house and see if she's seen Jackson-" Scott quickly spit into the receiver. Stiles lost his ability to speak and Lydia glared amusingly as Stiles tried to disagree with what Scott was saying on the other end. "Scott? It's Lydia." She smiled. It sounded like the phone dropped and then Scott muttered several curses. "Hi, Lydia. Have you seen Jackson?" She frowned. "No, not since this afternoon." She looked away, remembering how vivid their fight was. "No texts?" Scott asked, persisting. "What's this about, dude?" Stiles asked, eying Lydia with a curious expression. She returned it. "Uh.." He started, pausing, unsure. "Guys, can you get to Derek's house as quick as possible? Jackson's missing."


	10. Chapter 10

The ride through the woods was awkward to say the least. Neither spoke, neither knew what to say. Stiles was still trying to process the fact that Lydia Martin kissed him, he could still feel the hot sweetness on his lips, remembering how she grabbed his face, taking charge, eagerly kissing him, desperately, even. He wanted to say something, anything, but all coherent thought left him. He didn't have to look to his side to know that the kiss was the furthest thing from Lydia's mind. She was frowning, her nails digging into the vinyl of his jeeps door. So many things were spinning around her head, involving Jackson, where he was, was he hurt, scared? Guilt was radiating off of her and Stiles guzzled air, breathed deeply through his nose not to let on how hurt he was.

When the two reached the cleared opening that lead to the Hale house, Stiles quickly turned on his high beams, the woods freaked him out at night, nothing good ever happened there. The pair could still hear the sound of bombing fireworks shooting into the sky, but neither had seen any color since they left the highway. They were alone, consumed in the darkness, not knowing what to say about the situation. "He's going to be fine, Lydia. Don't you worry." Stiles tried to sound soft, but mostly just came off bitter. She looked up at him, she didn't want to be so annoyed by Stiles right now, not after what just happened, what _she _initiated, but she couldn't control the need to roll her eyes. "This is all my fault." She muttered above a whisper while looking out at the pitch darkness. "Yes, Lydia. This is all your fault. You kiss me and_ poof!_ Jackson goes missing." He spat at her, driving as careful as possible. She glared at him. "You think it's a coincidence?" He sighed. "Yeah, I do." "It's not." She insisted and Stiles knew it was hard for her not to stick out her tongue or pout at him. "Fine." He hissed. _"Fine."_ She mocked right back. He tried to focus on the drive, one wrong turn they'd hit a tree. His jeep was one of the biggest and he secretly thought that the pack made this so narrow just to screw with him. He saw the porch and the dull, eery glare off the dark windows of the Hale house. There was a soft yellow light coming from inside one of the front rooms and the two got out of the jeep, walking up the steps.

Once inside, Lydia grabbed Stiles' arm, knowing right where they would be and entered the large room seeing everyone looking very worried. It didn't ease Lydia's nerves. "What's going on? Where is Jackson?" Stiles rolled his eyes at her side and Erica scoffed. "Hi to you too." The blonde changed out of her festive shirt and was bathed in a blackness that Stiles knew was mostly for her mood. She cocked an eyebrow at him, signaling that he really did get around. Stiles licked his lips, seeing Scott glaring at him, his voice didn't sound off on the phone, but here, in person, Stiles didn't need superpowers to feel the hostility his best friend was emitting.

"You," Derek pointed at Lydia. "You haven't seen Jackson at all?" Lydia rubbed her lips together, looking up at the alpha. "No, not since this afternoon. He was pretty mad and-" Derek stormed away from her, cutting off Lydia's explanation. She glared at him. "He isn't at his house, he isn't at Danny's, he isn't at the school or the gym.." Derek started losing his patients. "Where else would he go?" He was still talking to Lydia, but she wasn't at all a fan of his temper or his attitude. She simply looked away. "Y-you said something about a personal trainer?" Stiles spoke quietly. "Yes!" Her eyes widened "Jackson has a trainer that he sees every day, his name is Lionel and I have a really, bad feeling about him." _"Uh oh.."_ A voice lifted from the shadows, Stiles and Lydia immediately turned in the direction, not seeing him before. Peter Hale stepped out, his hair slicked back, his blue eyes looking a little worried. Lydia shivered and subconsciously moved towards Stiles a little more.

"What is it?" Derek demanded, coldly looking at his uncle. The older man smiled curtly at Derek and walked into the center of the room, basking in the attention. "Maybe there's some things I should get off my chest." Peter suggested, tossing his hand in the air causally. Derek gritted his teeth but kept any comment to himself. "Sounds fabulous." Stiles muttered under his breath, then cursed silently, remembering _who_ he was with. Peter smiled at him. "Okay, so I may have forgot to mention a couple of things when you asked me about an alpha pack, Derek." Peter began. "An alpha packs goal is to find something that is lost." "We know that." Scott rolled his eyes. "Yes, but no one has figured out what they would be after!" Peter glared at Scott, annoyance in his tone. His eyes immediately softened and he walked in a slow circle, eying each person in the room. "No one but you, Stiles." Peter Hale looked encouragingly at the fidgeting sixteen year old. Stiles' brows furrowed and his mouth fell open in that dormant way that made people think he wasn't listening. "M-m-me?" He sputtered out. "Yes, you thought they were looking for someone, you were right." The room stayed silent, everyone trying to process. "Wait, then that means..." Stiles started already catching Peter's bright gaze, nodding at him. "They were after Jackson? Why?" Issac finished, completely perplexed. "Because he was the kanima?" Boyd shrugged. "Because he's an asshole." Erica sneered. Lydia glared at her but Stiles couldn't hold his chuckle.

"Because his eyes are blue." A voice from the darkness answered, footsteps followed, stepping between Stiles and Lydia with crossed arms. Scott's eyes widened at the sight of her. "That's correct, Allison." Peter's voice softened in the same way that it did when he would talk to Lydia, it made her shiver. She hadn't seen her best friend in months, could she still call the girl that? Allison didn't look at her, she didn't look at anybody but Peter. "What is the significance of blue eyes?" Erica asked, breaking the intense silence. "He was born a werwolf." Scott figured, jumping to the same conclusion as his best friend, who decided to keep his thoughts to himself. "That's it, isn't it? Derek-" The teen turned to face the alpha. "Your eyes were blue when you were a beta, and you said you were born like this. The rest of us, we have yellow eyes, because we were turned. Jackson must have been born a werwolf." Scott decided, even though he had just made the most sense he would probably ever make, out of anything, he looked confused as ever. "But Derek turned him." Issac insisted, "He bit Jackson and then he became the kanima." "That doesn't mean he wasn't always a wolf." Allison shook her head, trying to reason. Peter had kept his opinions to himself, just laced his hands in front of him and let the teenagers battle it out.

"You knew this. Jackson was never going to turn back into that thing!" Lydia accused. Everyone stopped, watching them. "I had to make you believe that he'd lose himself again." "But why?" Stiles spoke, coming to Lydia's side, wanting the answers just as badly as she did. Peter turned his back on them, again walking to the middle of the floor, captivating everyone's attention. "Alphas look for other alphas." He spoke like it was obvious. "No." Derek shook his head. "I would have known." Peter rose a brow at his nephew. "You can't find your way out of a paper bag these days, and frankly, everyone here knows it." Derek glared but let his anger simmer. "Jackson would never know, his parents died in a car crash, yes?" He asked his audience. "If either one of them was an alpha, the title would go down to their next of kin since it was a very _un_ homicidal death." Peter's whole disposition told the teens that he really didn't see how any of this was such a shock, and that he could think of at least twenty other things that were far more important right now. That angered Stiles.

"Why do they want Jackson?" Came one question. "Why do they look for alphas?" Asked another. Peter Hale rubbed his temple, secretly thrilled with how much they were relying on him. Stiles sensed that. He hated that. "How do you know so much about all this?" He found himself asking, glaring at the ex alpha, the man that created Lydia's every nightmare. To say Stiles hated Peter Hale was an understatement. He didn't care if he was the only one that knew a damn thing, Stiles would take his chances. He didn't like him, nor did he trust him. It was frustrating to Stiles that no one else seemed to see that. "Stiles!" Scott warned, sensing something Stiles couldn't? It didn't matter. "No, Scott, I want to know. What makes you such an expert, Peter?" Peter Hale smiled at Stiles, it was in that one glance that the sixteen year old understood everything.

"You know because you ran from them." Derek spoke up, his strong jaw set in a scowl, his green eyes blazing with memories that finally connected together. "When you came back to us, before the fire, you were running from someone." Peter smiled at his nephew but said nothing. "Got yourself into trouble with a pack of alphas, _Uncle_?" Derek rose a brow and Peter could do nothing else but laugh. All eyes in the room were on him, he was cornered. _"Clever, clever, clever, clever."_ Peter started mumbling, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. "It was all your fault Derek." Peter began, not looking up to meet anyone's gaze. "You poured your heart out to a girl who's only _purpose_ in this world was to kill our kind." Derek's breathing hitched, Allison's eyes started to glaze. "You told her every damn thing about us, our family. Oh-" Peter's eyes met Derek's. "You think I didn't know?" Derek looked away. "I had to do something, save us, at whatever cost." Peter Hale turned his back to the group, staring out a dusty old window. Lydia wondered if he was fantasizing about the past, the way the house looked before it was set ablaze, before all these horrible things happened, like what he showed her in a dream.

"I heard of this mythical alpha pack and legend goes that if you kill a member, you become even greater, stronger than any average alpha. You aren't limited to just your pack, you can control others." Peter's voice was masked with a smile. It churned Stiles' stomach. "It was what was needed to stop what was happening." He quickly turned back to the group, his eyes only on his nephew. "Well, legend didn't tell me how hard it was going to be." He rolled his eyes. "Needless to say, I only made them angry, and they've been hunting me ever since." Peter muttered. "So they're after you?" Boyd asked, "Not Jackson?" "No, they thought I died in the fire." Derek's head immediately turned, not being able to meet Peter's eye. The shame of that night all those years ago weighing him down, and having an Argent right there in his home just felt wrong. But Derek knew he couldn't hold that against Allison, she was looking just as fragile as Derek felt at the moment. In the glow of the lanterns she looked just like Kate. His anger weakened for a moment.

"So Jackson's parents were part of an alpha pack, and now Jackson is like next in line? So they just want to take him with them?" Scott asked, his voice slow, trying to sift over every word. "Well I say we just let them have him." Stiles spoke loudly. "I'm sick of saving his unappreciative ass." Stiles grunted with the contact of Lydia's arm in his stomach. "Ow." He croaked while receiving a glare from the strawberry blonde. "He can't just leave, Beacon Hills is his home, he belongs here." Stiles tried to pretend that those words didn't bother him so much. He tried not to take them so personally. "It's a lot more complicated than that, Lydia." Peter drawled. "Well we need to do something." She crossed her arms. "That still doesn't explain why you wanted Lydia to not break up with Jackson, what's the difference if he stays or goes?" Allison challenged.

Peter sighed, rather tired from all the interrogating and sat on the arm of the couch. "Alpha packs are strong. Stronger than any other werwolf. They are dangerous. If Jackson joins them, he still is connected to this pack, because of Derek. He could learn to control all of us. I thought that it be a little less complicated if his girlfriend could _give_ him a reason to stay. Apparently not." Peter spat. "Hey!" Stiles growled, standing in front of Lydia, shielding her. Peter laughed, turning to everyone else. "See what I mean? This one is _always _getting in the way." He ticked. Stiles had heard enough. "So what you're saying is we either try and keep Jackson from joining that new pack, or we let him go and give him the power to control us?" Peter stood, rubbing his temple. "If Jackson joins that pack, I am not saying that he will just control you, I am saying that it will give him and_ them_, the power to reek havoc over all of Beacon Hills." "Everyone?" Issac asked skeptically. Peter nodded. "Afraid so. But they already have him, the damage is done." He stretched. "I say we cut our losses and get the hell out of here." He started walking to the door. No one followed.

Derek gritted his teeth. "So we find him, he's only been missing for a few hours, nothing could have happened in that time." The alpha declared. "They probably already skipped town." Boyd weakly added. "No, I can feel it, they're here still." Erica disagreed, concentrating on something. "I can feel it too." Scott nodded. "So what? We're going to go gallivanting through town looking for him? It's fourth of July, in case anyone forgot, everyone's around." Stiles groaned. "Oh, and if we find him? Then what? These are alphas we're talking about! They are way stronger than us." He was not thrilled with the fact that everyone wanted to save Jackson, he really wanted to take Peter's offer. Grab his dad, move away. But that would have just made Stiles a coward, and the look on everyone's faces made him sure that if he left, right now, he would never get the nightmare of them out of his mind. He tried not to think of everyone ignoring him. Was it their adrenaline or their stupidity? Stiles wasn't sure.

"They have been in town for months, they have planned this." Derek insisted. "They've been watching us, haven't they?" Lydia asked. "I could feel it, I knew it. He just wouldn't listen to me." Lydia sighed. "They're not going to hurt him, Lydia. They want him to join them." Scott smiled at her. She nodded. There was a loud crash as Derek took out blueprints and maps of Beacon Hills out of a closet no one knew was there. The group hovered over the papers, trying desperately to pin point a location the alphas would be in. The group worked all through the night, it would take some time, but they would save Jackson, they would save Beacon Hills, and they would do it, together.


	11. Chapter 11

**I AM SO SORRY! I got really busy... and then I didn't know what to write... then I got busy again... I think it's terrible, tell me if it is terrible! I am sorry. **

"This is the place?" Chris Argent asked grimly to the two teens at his side. "That's what we've established." Allison nodded with an unusual tenderness. "We've pin pointed it to these three buildings." Stiles added with a failed attempt at hiding a yawn. It had been three days, a whole lot of sifting through the 4.2 square miles of Beacon Hills and a large amount of coffee consumption that _did not_ come from Jo's cafe. Stiles was bitter and it showed terribly to the people around him. He hadn't talked to Scott or Lydia in those three days about anything that didn't have to do with finding Jackson Whittemore. He knew he had to fix things, mainly with Scott, and having Allison as his only source of true communication wasn't helping his case. The three humans knew what was going to happen. It was going to be dangerous and Stiles didn't think that the Argent duo wanted to be there anymore than he did. As the hunters and Stiles walked away from the abandoned warehouse district on the far edge of Beacon Hills, Chris Argent ruffled through his pockets and tapped his thumb twice on a modulator that was specially designed to throw off a werwolf's hearing, so their conversation would not be heard. Stiles wanted one, and was in awe over everything that the two had trusted him with knowing for the past few weeks. They treated him like he was family, something Stiles didn't have much of.

They walked into the thick woods, where Issac stood hovering near Stiles' jeep. He gave a thumbs up as the three entered, signaling that he could not hear their conversation. Allison smiled as Mr. Argent shook Issac's hand. Issac had been the most supportive of this truce. He respected Mr. Argent, saying that he reminded him a lot of his own father, and Allison just liked one werewolf not always giving her the third degree. Mr. Argent started typing on his cell phone. "Stiles, would you take Allison home? Issac and I need to take care of something." The two teens furrowed their brows, an almost exact expression crossed both their faces. Issac laughed and Mr. Argent rolled his eyes. "You two are spending too much time together." He insisted, but didn't mean it harshly. Allison knew her father was thrilled that she had at least one friend who wasn't supernatural in any way. "We're going to see Dr. Deaton. I'll explain later." Allison nodded at her father and hopped into Stiles passenger side, the boy followed watching the two leave. It was an unusual friendship, Issac and Mr. Argent. One a werewolf, one a werewolf hunter, though that had been the common theme around Beacon Hills. Unlikely people working together, becoming friends, forming a bond. Allison shook her head while fastening her seat belt. "My dad really likes him." Stiles laughed. "Never would have thought." Allison nodded in agreement.

"So are we going to talk about the other night?" She asked as they drove back into the core of town. "What do you mean?" Stiles played coy. Allison sighed. "Lydia was over your house?" Stiles licked his lips. "Yeah. She had a fight with Jackson and was crying to me about it. No big deal." Allison smiled at her friend. "What aren't you telling me, Stiles?" Stiles eyed her while turning onto Jefferson Street. "She kissed me." He nearly whispered. Allison wasn't sure if she heard Stiles correctly. It was hard to hear anything sometimes over the roar of his engine. But the sheepish look on his face confirmed her thoughts. "She kissed you? Stiles, that's amazing!" Allison beamed. He didn't look as impressed. "What?" She frowned immediately. "She loves Jackson, Allison. She's always going to love Jackson and I'm always going to be that stupid kid that obsesses over her. All she cares about is saving him and I don't know how much more I can take. I should have just slammed the door in her face that night." He stated honestly. She could hear the earnest, raw pain in his voice. He was hurting. Badly. "Also, Erica told Scott that we were holding hands the other day and now he hates me." Stiles let his head fall back on the seat. "And to top it all off, I have to go help save my arch enemy, _again. _Just so I can watch Lydia run back into his slimy arms and forget all about her laps of judgment in kissing me. Everything is going to just go back to how it was and I'm going to be right back at square one." He was breathing heavily, Allison wasn't sure if it was just his anger or if he was having one of those panic attacks Scott had told her about. Stiles had too much pride in showing his weakness, even to her, and right now she was too worried about him to think of his damn pride. He threw the clutch into park, she was amazed what Stiles could do under pressure, even drive a car so successfully. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stiles." She whispered. "Listen to me.." She demanded. He didn't raise his head, but he sniffed back a sob she knew was on the brim of his breath and he grunted for her to continue.

"Lydia is a lot of things, but if I know my best friend, then there isn't a doubt in my mind that what happened in your room was mutual, Stiles. Okay? You are way too smart to let anything happen that wasn't meant to. Your feelings aside." Stiles smiled at Allison. "Okay." He mumbled after a long breath. "But, can you hardly consider Lydia your best friend, since you two haven't spoken more than a sentence to each other all summer?" Allison looked at Stiles innocently. Her doe eyes in full affect. "Oh, when I said I know my best friend? I was talking about you." Stiles laughed, a tight throaty sound that came from the deepest crevice of his heart. It was an appreciative sound, and he was overwhelmed with what a few simple words could do to him. "Thank you." He mouthed at her, looking deep into her eyes. She grabbed his hand off the console and kissed the middle of his knuckles. It was more of a maternal expression than anything romantic, as anyone who walked passed his jeep would be quick to assume. It was warm and kind and just like Allison was always meant to be. She brought him out of a panic attack whether she knew it or not, and he was grateful, words really weren't important in translating it to her. "Now." She sighed, lacing her fingers with his and leaning back comfortably on his seat. "Please drive me home." "What are you talking about? We're-" Stiles looked out his window and the stale coffee in his stomach churned over, solidifying itself, making it hard for Stiles to breathe. _"Ohmygod!"_ He muttered to himself, mortified. Allison tried not to laugh. The pair was outside Lydia Martin's house. Stiles had drove all the way there without even realizing. It was not something he was proud of. He let go of Allison's hand and glared at her. "Shut up." He mumbled while quickly driving away from this scene.

Lydia was at the Hale house, in fact, she barley left in the three days that it took them to find Jackson's whereabouts. Derek was slightly annoyed, but she was a huge help, her brains and wits were a match to Stiles', something the pack had been missing in those short summer months. She was probably smarter than Stiles, but Derek wouldn't admit that, not to her anyways. She was a pain in the ass. Erica wasn't pleased with her taking up residence either. She could smell it, Stiles all over her, and it had nothing to do with being territorial, as Lydia so tactlessly pointed out. It had Body and Derek snickering but it had _nothing_ to do with that. Lydia was bad news. She claimed to love Jackson, god knows why, and then goes behind his back at the first sign of insubordination to Stiles. Lydia knew how much Stiles cared about her, everyone knew how much Stiles cared. It wasn't fair of her, Erica thought, her icy brown glare boring into Lydia the whole while she was there, intruding on their place.

What Erica didn't know was that Lydia agreed with everything the blonde werwolf was thinking, and was kicking herself for just how insensitive she was. She went to Stiles on the fourth of July because he was the_ only_ person she could think of trusting as willingly as she did. She felt safe and wanted and genuine with him. But she ruined it. She heard Scott and Erica talking about Stiles and Allison the day before. How they hold hands and grab coffee together. That they _train_ together. That was who the red head at the coffee shop meant what she asked if Stiles had another girlfriend. She meant Allison. That did something inside Lydia, made her feel things had she had absolutely no right to feel. She screwed with Stiles and his sweet, innocent emotions and she felt like a monster for it.

But all she could think about was Jackson right now. He deserved as much, didn't he? She loved him, she was always going to. Your first love never dies, and all that Nicholas Sparks junk. Sure it was a screwed up relationship, doomed from the start. The second time around was no different, and she was done with Jackson. She just needed to find him and tell him that. Just because she didn't want to be in a relationship with him any longer didn't mean that she wanted to leave him with a sadistic pack of alphas who wanted to control him and everyone he loves, or well, tolerates. They, all of them, couldn't understand that. Not even Stiles, who always understood her, no matter what.

She kept thinking abut that kiss, it wasn't the sweetness or his lack of experience. She knew she was his first, and Lydia resented that she couldn't give him the same satisfaction. It was intensity of Stiles and his kisses that got to her the most, that surprised her and swept her off her feet. It had been so long since anyone had the power to take her completely off guard, and Lydia had been secretly pleased that Stiles was the deviance in her life. He had always spoke of feeling these things for her, but finally having him prove it, it left her breathless. She never wanted to go back to an impassive kiss again. She didn't think that Stiles could ever kiss her, kiss _any _girl, without emotion and passion and true, blissful feeling. It was what made him special, and what made her yearn for him at this moment. She would give back every kiss she had ever had, with any guy, just to have Stiles' lips on hers again, just so he could stand there, engulf her with that serenity and protection, and kiss her until she was seeing stars.

Lydia blinked. Trying to control her heart, her breathing. She was surrounded by people with the annoying ability to pick up on anything that wasn't mute normality, and the images in her mind of Stiles right now were anything but normal. "Lydia, Stiles is outside and needs to speak with you." It was like a gift from heaven. She nodded at Boyd, a little flushed and let herself out, greedy for the fresh air. Stiles was leaning against the hood of his jeep, which he had driven all the way to the porch. He looked at ease, tired but content. Like something terrible wasn't happening. Like they all weren't about to walk right into the line of fire. Maybe to him it wasn't such a terrible situation. She sighed, trying not to get angry at something she wasn't even sure of. She carefully climbed down the steps and landed right in front of a much taller Stiles. She had to blink, size him up. He looked a lot stronger and bigger than the other day. She was slightly aware that she was not in her usual heels, but Stiles being so much larger than her at the moment was kind of comforting to her, maybe he wouldn't be in danger, that he wouldn't get hurt, like her overly creative mind had imagined for hours now.. "Hi, uh, Boyd said you needed me?" She muttered, awkwardly. All she could think about was the kiss they shared and how hurt he was when he thought she forgot about it. But she could never forget about something like that.

Stiles had no idea what he was doing in front of Lydia Martin right now. As soon as he dropped Allison off at her actual home he jetted to the woods. He knew she was there, Issac had told him on the way to the factories that morning that she barely left the premises. He was comforted in knowing that she was safe in a decrepit house full of werwolves. Odd as it sounded. And he was equally comforted in knowing that Peter Hale kept his promise and was far from Beacon Hills. But standing in front of Lydia now made him very much aware of how alone and how close they were. He couldn't stop staring at her lips. Not that he hadn't stared at them for the past eight years, but now they weren't just a fantasy, they had been on his, he had felt first hand just how soft and dominant they were. He had to stay strong. He cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. "We need to talk about a few things." He found himself saying, though he had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth if she agreed. What could he say?

_'I thought you liked me?' _

_'Am I a bad kisser?'_

_'Are you always going to love Jackson?'_

This shouldn't have been awkward. But it was. Lydia nodded at Stiles and the two walked into the thick forest. Their hands brushed twice and Stiles gave up his avail and grabbed her soft hand on the third time around. Lydia smiled and squeezed it tightly. "Look, I know you are probably really confused, but I honestly didn't mean to hurt you." She began, stopping in a rather shady area and faced him. Stiles looked down at her, not sure what she was going to say, not sure if she was about to end something they never started. "Jackson is always going to be important to me Stiles, I think I may always love him." Stiles looked away. "But-" She quickly grabbed his face with the hand not already folded inside his. "But I don't want to pretend that I don't have feelings for you. This whole summer I have been ignoring what's been right in front of me. All the times I wanted to call you, how hard I tried to get you to spend time with me. It always meant more. I think we both know that." She whispered. Stiles gave a quick smile, eager to listen. "I'm going to end it with Jackson when we find him." Lydia wasn't looking at Stiles, just used both her hands to play with his fingers. "Lydia-" She looked up. "If you tell him that it's over, it might not give him a reason to stay." Stiles regretted saying it. He could tell by how green her eyes were that she was telling the truth. The honesty warmed him in placed that coffee and kind words from Allison couldn't. It was in those dark crevices of Stiles' mind that he knew only Lydia Martin could alter. She would always be the one to scorch his heart, like the whiskey from his father's liquor cabinet. "You don't want to try and be with me?" She mumbled flatly, her eyes narrowing in a challenging way. "No- I'I mean yes. _God _yes." Stiles quickly stuttered, leaning down and cupping her face in his hands. They were eyes to eye. "I just want everything to work out first. I want to know my dad's going to be safe and a pack of crazy werewolves aren't going to turn Beacon Hills into a remake of The Village. You are the only thing that seems to get to Jackson, and I'm not going to be selfish." Lydia frowned. "Okay." She whispered. "But where does that leave us?" She wondered, that same fire in her eyes from three nights ago. Stiles smiled at her, leaning in and brushing his lips gently across hers. It was so chaste, so innocent and light that Lydia couldn't help but wrap her arms around his neck and sigh. He was so different than Jackson, so different than any other boy.

She knew that he was giving her an out, that he was trying to tell her it was okay if this was just a lapse of her very strong judgment, the kiss was both a goodbye and a promise. He didn't let himself fully believe her when she said she wanted him. He couldn't believer her, and she couldn't blame him for that. She messed up far too many times with this boy who was wrapping his arms around her in that intense way that made her heart flutter. She had her mind set on breaking up with Jackson, Stiles telling her that he couldn't be selfish about his feelings just added to that fire. He was so unlike Jackson, in so many wonderful ways and she was still surprised with how much it surprised her, after knowing all that she knew about him. Jackson wouldn't hesitate to make her break up with Stiles if this was reversed. The thought wouldn't leave her mind.

"I just need you to do one thing for me." Stiles mumbled, breaking away from the hug to see her face clearly. She was radiant, filled with a purpose that she hadn't had for some time. The sun was streaming through the thick branches and made her hair sparkle like amber. "What is it?" She asked, rubbing her pink lips together. Stiles sighed. He knew she was going to protest, but he at least had to get it out there. "Would you maybe stay back, wait for us to get Jackson and then talk some sense into him." Lydia tilted her head to the side, letting his name fall off her lips in a tired way. "I don't want you to be there. I don't want to worry that you're going to get hurt." Lydia smiled. "It's sort of defeating the purpose if I don't go." Stiles groaned. "Yeah, I know. But I just want you to be safe." Lydia could see how serious, how hard Stiles was fighting to not just drag her back to his jeep and run away from this place. Part of Lydia wanted him to do just that. She licked her lips. "I'll think about it." Stiles narrowed his eyes. "That's a no." Lydia smiled and grabbed his hand. "We have a lot to worry about, okay. Please, don't keep insisting that I'm at the top of that list. I am more than capable of taking care of myself." Stiles grumbled as she pulled him out of the forest and back into the clearing. Scott was coming up the man made path, his backpack slung across his shoulder. Stiles forgot that he was still in summer school. The real world a distant memory. "Having a quickie in the woods?" Scott glared. "Shocked it isn't _my_ girlfriend." He glowered before going up the steps and slamming the door shut behind him. The two heard Derek yell at Scott to be careful with the house, or something along the endangering property lines, but everything was fading away as Lydia turned to Stiles. "Allison?" Stiles shook his head. "She's _just_ my friend, Scott and everyone else can't seem to accept that." Lydia smiled awkwardly. She heard the stories, but she knew how Stiles felt about her. "I believe you." She shrugged, then added "If it helps." Stiles smiled down at her. "It does."

Stiles didn't want to think about how much of a downwards spiral his life had turned into as of late. He was in love with a girl that was doing everything in her power to save her boyfriend, while promising that she wanted to be with him. Could Stiles handle something like that? Having feeling for Lydia Martin had always been somewhat second nature for him, but being with her, loving her, the way she deserved, that was a pressure that Stiles Stilinski wasn't so confident he could surpass. A girl like Lydia deserved someone amazing, someone who could listen to her, and put up with her scattered behavior, sardonic mood swings. She needed someone who appreciated her, treated her like a princess, not a kid who drove a beat up jeep and has to drink decaffeinated coffee because he twitched too much. Stiles couldn't believe that this was happening. That he more or less wore Lydia Martin down until she had no other choice but to give him a chance. He had been going about this ten year plan all wrong, it had nothing to do with showering her with affection and elaborate, over the top birthday gifts; it had _all_ to do with ignoring the girl of your dreams until it makes her angry enough to do something about it. The only thing Stiles knew now was that he knew absolutely nothing about girls.

He also hated the way Scott was so callous and cynical towards him. All the back and forth anguish and jealousy left Stiles' head spinning. He hated that things were so unsecured between them, like the knots in their solid friendship loosened and Stiles was desperately attempting to tie it back up before it was deemed beyond repair. He couldn't let their friendship suffer over a girl, especially a girl that Stiles had absolutely no feelings for. It was one thing when Stiles was upset that Scott kissed Lydia, that was simple. Stiles liked Lydia, Scott knew that. This was completely different, and Scott was being unreasonable. All the worry he had over his own life seemed to vanish more and more as the sun disappeared outside Stiles' window. It was becoming very real what was about to happen. Stiles was about to go risk his life, break into an abandoned warehouse with a bunch of werewolves, without having a clue about how these alphas operated, why they were doing what they were doing, and what it would take to stop them. They were unprepared and it didn't seem to matter to anyone but Stiles.

* * *

The moon was high in the sky, the crickets were chirping their signature song. The hot wind was whipping around the woods, shaking the trees that seemed to increase the darkness. The abandoned factories didn't have lights. Not after the fire that shut down their operation over twenty years ago, Beacon Hills sort of forgot the place even existed. Which made it a perfect makeshift home for a rabid pack of alphas. Two cars drove onto the scene slowly, making sure not to make a lot of noise until Mr. Argent had a chance to turn on the modulator.

Once he did, Stiles climbed out of his jeep fiddling with a wolfs bane soaked knife. He was trying hard to latch it into the cuff on his wrist but his hand was shaking too hard. "For the love of God, Stiles!" Scott muttered exasperated while shutting the passenger side door to the jeep. He secured it on his best friends wrist swiftly. The two looked at each other, there was fear in Scott's eyes, but there was more jet black determination. That comforted Stiles, that Scott's mind was on the game, not on other things. "Look, man-" Stiles started solemnly. "We really need to talk." Scott nodded. "I know, just-" "Not now." Stiles finished with a quick smile. Scott clapped Stiles on the shoulder roughly. "I don't care what's going on with the two of you." Scott's eyes darted to Allison who was in quietly conversing with her father. "I just need you to promise me that you'll protect her, no matter what." Stiles smiled at Scott. "Of course I would. But I gotta tell ya, she'll probably be the one protecting the both of us." Scott laughed, looking at the dark ground. "I hope so."

"Everyone understand the plan?" Derek asked coolly. He received nods and a few grunts. "Our goal is to get Jackson and get out, at any cost." The group looked at each other, Stiles could see everyone's skepticism now, they were all unsure, do they believe everything Peter Hale said? Do they try and save Jackson, save their home? Or do they go back to the house and pray for the best. Stiles wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He wasn't sure what was right. "These are powerful werewolves we are dealing with, they are all force, we need to be smarter than that." Derek looked at Chris Argent with a nod and he cleared his throat. "As of right now we are sure that there are five of them. They are relying on their brawn, not their brains. We have both, so we need to use it to our advantage. I have lined the perimeter with mountain ash. From here on out, we're in this together." Stiles looked at Allison, both realizing why her father went to Deaton. "The alphas cannot leave either, so we have no choice but to overpower them." Mr. Argent took out the sound modulator from his pocket. "They cannot hear us coming, that will be an advantage. But do not take that as their weakness. They can think fast on their feet. They want Jackson to join them, we need to keep him from doing just that." Derek signaled for someone to come into the circle that the wolves and hunters were crowded in. Lydia emerged from behind a very tall and dark Derek Hale. Stiles felt a panic in his chest. She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Lydia!" Stiles spat. "You weren't supposed to come!" Lydia looked down. "I'm sorry, Stiles." "Stiles, she needs to be here." Derek's voice was unusually soft. "She is immune, a bite won't even hurt her." "Yeah, but no one is immune to death, Derek." Stiles glared, squeezing his fists, though they both knew he wouldn't be using them. Lydia sighed and walked over to him. "I need to do this, you can't keep trying to protect me." Her voice was soft, though it didn't make much of a difference, considering the company they kept. "Yeah I can." Stiles nodded. "It's not a challenge, Stiles, it's a fact. I want to be here. I'm just as much a part of this as anyone. I can help." Stiles was immediately dragged back to his room, the night Jackson died, the night Lydia finally came to _him_ for comfort, for help. This was the same situation, just different scenery. They would always be fighting over Jackson and his worth to the both of them. Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his cropped hair. "I hope you're right, Lydia." Stiles walked away then, angry.

Derek seemed pleased enough as Stiles relinquished his fight, and carefully eyed his betas. His jaw set in a look that spoke volumes of seriousness. "Issac, Boyd. You two go listen for any disturbance in the far building, Erica, you and Scott will censor the middle. I will take the last one, if you hear anything, a voice, a crash, _anything_, give the signal. Chris is going to turn off the modulator. No one, make a sound. You got me?" Threatening Derek was back. The wolves went to their places, leaving Stiles, Allison, Lydia and Mr. Argent alone. Mr. Argent gave a quick signal with his flashlight and clicked twice on the button. The werewolves were careful, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Erica grabbed onto Scott's arm, he nodded, they heard something. Quickly, Erica gave a flash of her own small flashlight and Mr. Argent immediately turned the mute back on. Everyone rushed to the center building. "This is it?" Derek grunted and Erica nodded. "I could hear Jackson." She whispered. The group all took a breath. Ready to encounter something new, something they never have done before. No one knew what they were getting into.

Derek opened the large metal front door and the group scrambled inside. It was dark and oddly cold within the factory, despite the thick July air outside. They raced up the stairs, circling until they found several doors, Boyd was paying close attention, he had developed an odd attribute for heartbeats, being able to hear one from a farther than normal distance. He sensed a faint sound coming from the very end of the hall. The double doors were large, at least twelve feet from the floor to ceiling and were the same cold, dusty metal that the group met at the front door. Derek and Chris pulled the doors open, and the group was faced then, with a very spacious, very high beamed ceiling room. In the center, Jackson sat with a dark figure. The two were hovered close together, but with the force of the open door, he jumped from the thin couch. He was actually smiling when he caught sight of the pack. "Jackson!" Lydia yelped, stepping in front of Derek. "Lydia!" Jackson gave a very breathy, astonished call back. Stiles tried not to roll his eyes.

Jackson moved to stand at the side of the alpha with him. He had a face that was hard to mistake for someone else. He was tall, skinny but with unquestionable muscle mass beneath the dark clothing. He was smiling, bright teeth radiating his already pale face. His hands were placed behind his back, attempting to seem casual and aloof, though the danger looming in his coal eyes couldn't be ignored. He had dark hair that was cut short above his ears, but with the minimal light coming from some stray lamps, you could see the fine hairs had a copper tint . "So this is Jackson's family." The soft voice didn't fit the person. He was cautious, with some suppressed angry just simmering beneath his surface. It seemed effortless to control, but you could still tell that it was there. He smiled at the group. "Jackson and I were just getting to know each other a little better." The man bellowed. "I am Daniel." He gave a quick tilt of his head.

He didn't_ seem _evil. Stiles declared to himself. He was trying to mask the twitch in his right leg while swallowing back his fear and frustration. It reminded Stiles a lot of the feeling you experience when you are going up the tracks of a roller coaster. You know what's coming, and you are preparing, but it won't come soon enough. "Derek Hale." The alpha nodded. You could see the similarities, both were strong, quiet types. Having all this power and strength within them and doing a very careful job of keeping it concealed. "I know who you are." Daniel's voice was a little threatening. "I suppose you've come to collect Jackson." "You've supposed right." Lydia answered, stepping even closer to the opposite alpha, anger to her tone. "And who is this?" Daniel asked, as if he was talking to a child. "Jackson's little girlfriend?" Lydia stood her ground as Daniel circled her. "Pretty." He turned back to Jackson, "very pretty." He mumbled approvingly. Stiles clenched his fists. He didn't like the way this guy was staring at her. "I'm afraid Jackson and I have more to discuss, he isn't leaving." Daniel was firm, turning his back on the group, dismissing them.

Derek muffled a sound that no one in the room could quite place, his green eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched tightly. "I think, he's coming with me." Derek's voice was low and mild, it was scratching at irritable, but the alpha was good at keeping his feelings deluded at times of need. "That is up to Jackson to decide." Daniel concluded, his soft voice was breezy and still not at all concerned with the hostility that Derek's pack was causing. Stiles wanted that, to be so confident and capable that he wouldn't sweat in this kind of situation, like he was sweating now.

"Jackson?" Lydia mumbled. She saw it before anyone else did, he wasn't going to leave. But she needed to try. There was no explanation that would satisfy her at this moment for him to stay here, with this man. "Jackson, come on, let's go home." She reached out her hand, it trembled only once, and walked even closer to the two. Stiles immediately stepped forward but Erica's arm was at his shoulder, immobilizing him in an instant. He gave her a pained look, but she ignored it with a fiery one. Silencing his thoughts. "I can't leave." Jackson sighed, looking away from Lydia, down at the floor. "What?" She scoffed. "You can't leave? What did _he _do? Who did _he _threaten?" Lydia glared at Daniel, accusingly, his poker face could win him millions. Jackson moved to Lydia, letting his hands rub circles on the base of her elbows. "I need to stay here, he knows things about me, about my parents, Lydia, my _real_ parents. I have to-" He stopped, choking up. Lydia knew that this was the only thing that Jackson had wanted, the only thing of importance to him. Her heart wanted to stay here with him, but she knew that they both needed to go. "Come with me, okay, we don't need him, I'll help you find out anything you want to know about them, but you can't stay here. Okay? Jackson, they're dangerous."

A cackle came from behind the couple, who was too deep in thought to realize that they had even more company. Lydia turned quickly, her hair tossing behind her, hitting Jackson's chest. Her eyes widened, seeing a familiar figure with their hand around Stiles' throat. The sixteen year old gasped, seeing the fear and shock in Stiles' eyes. "I thought you liked this one?" The voice asked, mockingly, the hold on Stiles' neck tightened. "Oh my god." Allison whispered, stepping closer to her father. "Jo, that is no way to treat our guests." Daniel smirked, he still looked relaxed and poised. Jo, the woman that Stiles and Allison came to care about, slowly removed her long fingers from the boy's pale neck, the ugly red imprint of her hand wouldn't wipe away, no matter how many times Stiles rubbed at it, while coughing. Allison moved to him, her hand falling into his. Jo smiled and walked to the middle of the room, to stand at Daniel's side. "You're one of them?" Allison asked, feeling very much betrayed. Jo wiggled her blood red fingers with an innocent smile to her matching lips. "Guilty."

Allison lunged for her then, feeling helpless and angry, and everything that she swore she'd never feel. It wasn't like Allison confided in Jo or told her secrets, but it was the fact that she was a warm friendly face, in a cafe designated for werewolf free discussions, and normal coffee. She was part of that balance that Allison had, whether she had just realized it or not, and Jo took that all away from her, now that she was reviled to be one of them. A werewolf, an enemy, a monster. Scott stepped in front of her, before she could make her way to the other side of the room. She crashed into his powerful chest and couldn't even relish in the feeling of being this close to him again. She looked up into his eyes, he could see her hurt. He nodded at her while caressing the side of her face subtly. She calmed some. "Let's talk this out. Shall we?" Daniel offered, three more bodies stomped through the door, all large and cloaked in black. There was Lionel, Lydia recognized as Jackson's trainer. He was the largest and most gruff. He had a stoney look, glaring at the group. Next were twin boys, tall and lanky. They seemed amused, almost excited. Lydia stepped away, back into the group of people she knew. Jackson stayed in his place. Conflicted of where he belonged.

"You already know Jo and Lionel, they've been keeping an eye on you, so to speak." Daniel grinned, a hidden joke somewhere lost in the meaning. "They-" Daniel pointed to his side, at the dark twins, "are Felix and Franklin." One of the boys, who couldn't have been much older than the soon to be juniors nodded while the other one cracked his knuckles in a failed attempt at seeming destructive. Stiles' head was spinning. He couldn't stop imagining Jo in a brown apron, her red hair wild and free, serving him coffee and smiling genuinely. Not here, in a dark, abandoned warehouse snarling at the group like a older and more malicious version of Erica Reyes. It just didn't make sense to him. He could see Allison pale more and more by the second and no one looked incredibly determined any longer, mostly just wary and confused.

"I am in no mood to make friends, Daniel." Derek glowered. "Then what have you came for besides Jackson?" The room was still, no one moved, only eyes shifted between the two alphas. "We know about your plan to use Jackson and take over Beacon Hills." Derek stated, figuring on not dragging out the inevitable for longer than necessary. His eyes narrowed, gauging his reaction. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Daniel answered, a small, ghost of a smile remained on his lips, but his eyes seemed questionable. "No idea?" Daniel shook his head. "We are only here to insure that Jackson knows his birth right, who his family is." "We're his family." Issac spoke, his voice strong. "Yes," Daniel drawled, his eyes landing on Derek with an usual excitement. "But, to have a Hale in the family insures you a lifetime of disappointment and danger." There was a growl and then, before everyone's eyes, Derek lunged through the air, hitting Daniel, the head alpha, in the chest. The two toppled over, signaling the beginning of a fight. Werewolves charged at each other.

Stiles blinked, surprised with just how quickly things happened. He caught sight of Lydia, running towards Jackson who was hiding in a corner. Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, yanking her towards him. She slammed against him, her eyes squeezed shut. "What the hell are you doing?" Stiles yelled over the sounds around them. "I need to see if Jackson's alright." "Lydia, he's fine. Get the hell out of here! Now!" Lydia looked up at Stiles, his eyes were cold and his full, soft lips were set in a grim line. She knew he was right, that she had nothing to protect herself, and probably should go wait near the car, or in the woods; but she couldn't just leave Jackson there, scared for his life. She made her decision, and she knew Stiles was going to hate her for it. "I'm sorry, but no." She yelled, pushing away from him and running to where she had last seen Jackson. Stiles groaned. "Lyd-" He was knocked to the ground before he could finish calling her name. He blinked rapidly while moaning. The wood floor was hard and dirty. As his vision centered he saw one of the twin wolves hunched over him. "Felix?" He muttered. Not that it mattered, he really didn't care who the hell was about to kill him. "Franklin." The amused grin vanished momentarily as he deadpanned. "Oh, obviously." Stiles spat, rolling his eyes and regretting it. A sharp pain seized his brain. His heartbeat puttered rapidly through his eyes. "Why would a human come here?" The boy asked thoughtfully. "I mean those girls, they seem like they can do _some damage_, but you-" Franklin chuckled. Stiles really didn't feel like begin teased. He tried to look around, see who was where, if everyone was okay, but he could only make out dark jeans and boots. He rolled his eyes again at the urge by Derek to dress accordingly and tried to sit up. Franklin seemed puzzled that Stiles wasn't even listening to him. The lanky werewolf went to push Stiles back down, and without even thinking, Stiles grabbed the arm, and shoved him to the ground, in one fluid motion. Franklin staggered for a moment, shocked, before Stiles jammed one of the laced knifes into his opponents side. "I can do something, jackass." Stiles muttered and walked away, pleased and pretty surprised with himself.

"Seriously, kid, I did not peg you for the warrior princess type." Jo gripped, amusingly. Allison glared. "This is just a game to you? You were just spying on Stiles and I?" The seventeen year old walked around, matching the older alphas steps. They circled each other like boxers. "You walked into my cafe, remember? I was just trying to make you see that someone like that, is who you're meant to be with. Not someone like that Omega." Allison glared. "You don't know anything about us." Jo egged Allison on. "A wolf is meant to have a strong partner, someone who can stand alone." "You don't see me yelling for help." Allison tossed, shrugging. Jo smiled, a very catlike grin that reminded Allison a lot of Erica. "No, but you will be." With that Jo charged and Allison reacted almost immediately, using the arrow she had edged within her shirt to jam into Jo's chest, missing her heart by inches. But she meant to. "I'm an Argent, in case you forgot." Allison hissed before letting the redhead fall to the ground and walked away, receiving a high five from a very impressed Erica Reyes, who just finished knocking out Felix, the other twin with the help of Boyd.

Allison smiled, feeling good about the control she had, while adjusting her gripping glove. She looked around, Stiles was with Issac, looking at a cut on his arm, and her father was reloading his arrows, while struggling to keep up with Derek and Daniel. It is in her go around that she watches on with horror as Lionel, the larger than life werewolf came behind Scott, and slashed him with his own claws. "Scott!" Allison screamed, and it seems to echo on for eternity in that high ceiling room. Stiles' head snaps to Allison's voice, as she rushed, stammering while attempting to land an arrow into Lionel's back. But she fell to the floor besides a limp Scott before she could land a good blow at him. Her ear hit his chest, searching desperately for his heartbeat. "Oh my god, Scott!" Allison yelped, dropping her bow, with a loud echoing thud. "Oh my-" Her voice was clouded with tears, the sensation restricting even the smallest of breaths from passing. "No, _no_. Please stay with me." She begging to Scott's unmoving body. "Allison!" She heard her name, and looked up through glassy eyes at Stiles who threw her his car keys. She licked her lips and nodded at him. They knew what this could mean, her breaking the circle to rescue Scott could have this whole plan fail, the alphas could get away. But this was Scott and they would do anything for him. Allison struggled a bit, but managed to drag Scott out of the room. Stiles closed his eyes, prayed for his best friend to be okay.

Daniel stopped fighting once he saw Allison leave with Scott. A human and a wolf. Something inside of him snapped and he effortlessly dodged Derek, grabbing the alpha by the back of his neck and pinning him roughly to the ground. He growled a loud "Enough!" Shaking the beams on the ceiling, dust fell in a drizzle from the high rafters, and everyone in the room silenced their motions as if Daniel's command was law. The head alpha was breathing heavily, wiping some blood from his mouth and paced the room. "Look at what has been done, because of a Hale." He spat with much venom to his soft voiced words. Derek rose to a sitting position, weak and still very angry. "I am protecting my home-" "You have tainted information." Daniel glared. "Shit." Stiles muttered. "What?" Derek glared. "You weren't' the Hale he was talking about." Stiles let his head roll back with a groan. Lydia and Jackson came out of the small hiding spot they had found. "Peter? This is all Peter's fault?" Lydia asked, standing beside Stiles. "Isn't it always?" Erica hissed, crossing her arms.

Derek took several small breaths, looking up at Daniel. "So you do not want to take over Beacon Hills?" "No." Jo answered, gingerly holding her side, a dark circle of blood pooled into the fibers of her white shirt. "But you could." Boyd questioned. "Of course we could." Franklin scoffed, letting his still weak brother lean against him. "We only wanted to bring Jackson into our pack because it was what his mother wanted." Daniel tried to reason. "We were going to try and do this rationally, but he was never left alone. We never wanted to cause any harm." Derek squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Where is Peter Hale now?" Lionel asked, his deep voice like a cloud of dark smoke. "Gone." Issac muttered. "Figured as much." Daniel smiled, oddly. "But as I said before, this is Jackson's decision. Everyone looked at Jackson.

He grabbed onto Lydia's hand, moving her away from the others. Lydia was already crying, Jackson hated when she cried. He knew she had done it for half of the school year. That he was the cause of so many tears, but he had a chance to make this all right. "Lydia-" "I know, Jackson. I know." She whispered, sniffing. "What?" "You want to go with them." She looked up into his blue eyes. He nodded at her. "It wouldn't be forever!" He offered with a smile, moving some of her red hair out of her face. He twisted a piece between his fingers. _Strawberry blonde_. That's what Stilinski called it. Maybe he was right. He knew that Lydia was falling for him too. She wouldn't tell him, not now, but she would, eventually. Lydia could never hide her feelings for long. He sighed while bringing her into his hold. "I need to know about my parents. Maybe I'll finally know where I belong." Lydia broke away from him, glaring. "You belong here." She insisted. "No I don't." He shook his head. He turned away from her, looking at Derek and his pack, at the people that brought him in for a summer, without having much of a choice. But they were here now, and even though they believed it was for something much greater than just saving Jackson's life, he was grateful. "I'll be back." He nodded. "Can't miss junior year." "What about your parents?" Mr. Argent asked. Jackson forgot he was there. "I'll let you handle that one." He laughed. "I can never be the son they deserve without figuring out who I'm supposed to be." He turned towards the alpha pack. "They say I'm destined for greatness." "I've never doubted that." Stiles mocked, sarcastically. Jackson had to smile. If Lydia was going to be with anyone in that one horse town, he was glad that it was someone who cared so deeply for her, more than Jackson knew he ever could. But, maybe once he figured himself out, he could go back to her. He smiled. "Don't cry." He whispered at Lydia. "I love you, Jackson." "I know." He nodded. And he loved her too, he just couldn't say it. Maybe one day he could. He kissed her cheek lightly, and walked over, shaking Derek's hand. The most manly action he had ever given his alpha. Derek smirked. "Good riddance." He chuckled, though only half meant it. Jackson nodded. "Always a pleasure." He added crudely. "I'm sorry, how things happened here." Issac was the one to offer, he had always been the one that cared about others feelings more than his own. Daniel nodded.

The group left the warehouse, quietly and confused. They were leaving Jackson in the hands of powerful alphas, and they weren't sure if they would ever see him again. Lydia knew though, Jackson would come home, to where he belonged. She grabbed Stiles' hand as the two walked towards Mr. Argent's car. Stiles could see where Allison broke the line to rush Scott out of there, and asked Mr. Argent if he would drop Stiles off at Deaton's, that was where he belonged right now.

Everything else could wait until morning.


	12. Chapter 12

**So, first of all, I'm really happy that you all liked the last chapter... I was really worried there for a second, since I changed my mind last minute... This was going to be the last chapter, because I don't like dragging out stories for longer than need be, but changing my mind about the whole alpha story gave me room to continue.. and I don't really want to end it just yet, since we still have like a jillion more months until the new season and I'm not going to have anything else to write for Stiles and Lydia after this... so... thank you again, and I am currently outlining the next half of the story :) _OH _and all my regular TV shows are starting back up soon, and I may feel the need to write tons and tons of fanfiction for them, so this is just a heads up to anyone who gets a message when I post a new story... (you've been warned) **

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?" Allison pressed, ignoring Stiles jab at her side. "Ms. Argent, I don't know what else I can tell you, he needs to rest, minimal excitement. Please." Allison pouted but bit her tongue from spitting out the rest of her questions. "Can we go sit with him, we won't talk, promise!" Stiles mumbled, holding up his free hand in a scouts honor sort of way, the other was wrapped securely around Allison, so she wouldn't leave his side. From the moment the two met up outside of the vets office, she was acting like a crazy person. Dr. Deaton was taking too long, he wasn't explaining to her what had happened to Scott, if he was going to be okay. Even when he did come out to talk to the teens, he was vague and distant. He wanted to ask them just as many questions, probably more, but it wasn't the time or place. The elder man nodded and walked to his front office as the two headed into the back room. They were met with the sight of Scott laying helpless on a cold metal table. Deaton had used a sack of shredded news paper as a makeshift pillow and had placed a thick gauze from the front left side of Scott's stomach wrapping it around twice, over his torso, stopping the bleeding and letting him heal.

Stiles didn't know if there was different healing periods depending on what you were attacked by. The way Allison explained how that large Lionel character stabbed Scott from the back, had horrible images spinning around his head. He felt terrible that Allison was going through this. She didn't want to be apart of it from the beginning, and here they were, less than a month later, smack in the middle; bloody and unkempt. "Did my dad say anything on the drive here?" She whispered to Stiles while rubbing her long thumb across Scott's hand. Stiles shook his head. "No, he understands. I think." Allison sighed, her eyes never left her ex boyfriend who laid peacefully, sleep carrying him away from this awful place. "What happened, Stiles?" Her dark eyes met his light ones. "Peter tricked us." He shrugged. "He sent us there, ready to have them kill us all, and we let him run away like a coward." Stiles groaned. "Who's laughing now? Huh?" He rolled his eyes and Allison's brows furrowed. "We're all alive. That's the important part." Her eyes flickered back to his, gauging his reaction. She had no clue if they were all alright or not. If Scott was the only one who was hurt worse than an Alpha was. Stiles nodded. "We're all alive." He looked down. "But Jackson decided to stay with the alpha pack." Allison frowned. Though it wasn't a surprise. His mind was made up before the fight had even started. "How's Lydia?" Stiles shrugged. He really didn't know. He hadn't spoken to her in Argent's car, and barley looked at her when he left. "You haven't talked to her? Stiles, what if she needs you?" "Trust me, she doesn't. Scott needs me, Scott needs us." Allison licked her lips. Stiles didn't want to get into things with Lydia, nor did he want to start up a conversation about her while the two were hovering over their sick friend. He'd talk when he was ready. He always did. For now, they could sit in silence and worry about Scott, and what would happen now.

Lydia squeezed her pillow a little tighter. It still smelt of Jackson. She felt pretty foolish, mourning the loss of a boy she was about to break up with. But she had explained it to Stiles, she would always love Jackson. He was the first boy that ever made her feel things she never believed existed, and she was both incredibly happy for him and saddened by the loss of him. He was going to find out about his parents, the alphas were going to answer all the questions he had been reciting since the day he found out he was adopted, that the Whittemore's were not his biological parents. He was going to find who he was meant to be, like he always dreamed. She couldn't help but be proud of him for that. But Lydia was feeling terrible and all she wanted was to talk to Stiles, tell him that nothing that was said between her and Jackson changed what she was forming for him. But he wouldn't even look at her, and there was an unsettling feeling of finality in her heart. She squeezed the pillow tighter, burying her sorrows within it.

"Stiles! I started to think I'd never see you again!" Mrs. McCall grinned at the sixteen year old while letting him in. "I applaud you for knocking." She teased, while shutting the front door behind him. "Scott's in his room. I was just heading to work. I'm glad he won't be alone." Stiles smiled, though he wasn't sure how long this visit was going to take. Scott could kick him out a second after walking into his room, but Stiles had to try. Scott needed to know the truth. He said goodbye to Mrs. McCall and climbed the steps two at a time, and knocked on Scott's door. He heard a faint 'come in' and took a deep breathe before entering. "Stiles." Scott sounded surprised. But why would he? How many friends did he actually have? And with his super hearing, he had to have known it was the blue jeep from down the block. "Hey, how you feeling?" Stiles smiled awkwardly while shutting the door behind him. "Better, thanks." Stiles nodded while taking a seat at Scott's desk. "Look, things have been weird between us for weeks now."

Which was true, after the night from hell between the alphas and Derek's pack everyone kept to themselves. Scott was instructed to go to summer school and then directly home, Allison was trying _not_ to care that Scott hadn't even called to thank her for saving his life, Derek and his pack kept out of sight; the alpha was still embarrassed for trusting Peter again, believing in what he said. The man had a way of making the most moronic statements seem more serious than the issues within the United States government. Stiles had kept to himself as well, trying desperately to figure out how to fix everything, and try not to feel hurt that Lydia hadn't spoken to him. He figured that she was still mourning the loss of Jackson's presence in Beacon Hills, but not even a text message from her left Stiles irritable. Though, he knew he did this to himself. And right now, he had to worry about Scott, and their friendship. Not Lydia, who he went into this summer vacation promising himself he'd forget. So two weeks flew by without any of the teens realizing. August was fast approaching, and with it, the last turn to their eventful and unbalanced summer.

"Sorry, I just didn't know what to say." Scott answered honestly. Stiles agreed. He had no idea what to say either. "Well you could call Allison, she really wants to hear from you." Stiles ordered. "Oh, did she tell _you_ that." Scott rolled his eyes. His jealousy was at a boiling point. "Alright. I give up. Why do you keep fighting me on this? Why can't you just accept that Allison is my friend, and move on? She doesn't like me, okay!" Stiles pleaded, trying his hardest to reason with him. "Yes she does." Scott mumbled. "What?" Stiles asked, his brows furrowed. He nearly missed what Scott had said. "I said that she likes you, Stiles." "No, no she doesn't. She loves you, man. Okay, you should have seen her the night you got hurt, she was a mess." Stiles' voice was even. "I can smell it, Stiles. She may love me, but you're what's good for her. The kind of person her father wants her to be with. I seen the way he looked at you the night we talked at the Argent's. The night I found out that you decided to train with them. He likes you, more than he'll ever consider tolerating me. I can't compete with that, dude. She deserves someone normal." Scott was looking down at his sheets. Stiles had no idea he felt like this. He knew Scott was jealous of all the time that he and Allison had been spending together, but he never would have thought that it stemmed so far. And for Scott to say that Allison liked him, that he could smell it, it left Stiles feeling dizzy. He would never, ever like her that way, he couldn't.

"Scott, I need you to know that that doesn't change anything. You're my best friend, I would never do anything to jeopardize that." Scott managed a small smile. "I know that." He muttered. "But it's right in front of my face. And I thought now that Lydia was into you things would cool off but-" "Wait, what?" "What?" Scott asked, his genuine confusion etching his face. "Lydia's into me?" "Yeah, you knew, right?" "Another one of your wolf senses tingling?" Stiles cleared his throat. "Something like that." His lips twitched. Stiles sighed and let his head rest in the cup that his palms created while propped upon his thighs. Lydia had basically said it, hadn't she? That she would leave her boyfriend for Stiles. That was something that only happened in his dreams, like kissing her or holding her hand. Stiles couldn't help but feel cautious about the situation he was getting himself into. He had ever right to stay skeptical about Lydia Martin. Because, truth was, no matter how much he claimed to know her inside and out, when it came down to it, he was at a loss for a coherent thought when it came to what she was going to do next.

Scott was staring at Stiles, watching him map out his little problem inside his brilliant mind. He wished he could read things as clearly and as thoroughly as his best friend could. He also wished that he couldn't sense certain emotions that he had no right invading. The way Allison felt about Stiles was none of Scott's business. He knew he was just being stubborn, not going to her and thanking her, it was his way of keeping the inevitable from surfacing. Something was still there between them, something probably would always be there. He loved Allison, and he loved her enough to know he wasn't right for her. That loving someone different than him, someone human, whether it was Stiles or some other guy, was safer and better for her than loving him.

After Stiles left the McCall residence, he had every intention of finding Allison Argent. He needed to talk to her. This wasn't just for Scott anymore. If his best friend was right, and Allison could have feelings for him, he needed to let her know, she needed to know. Scott only had two ways of going about a conflict, do nothing, or freak out. He couldn't let Allison get in the middle of that. She _couldn't_ like Stiles, she was too supportive of him and Lydia, she teased him like a sister. Everything that they had was merely looked at as something more than it was. And that was probably what Scott was doing, he was letting his emotions and his jealously cloud his very keen werewolf judgment. He was seeing what he wanted, and it was Stiles and Allison's job to fix it.

His father called on his way over to Allison's house. He debated on letting it go to voice mail, but Stiles was always one to have vivid and obnoxiously creative scenarios play out in his head if he didn't do something he should. His father could be in a ditch, or held at gun point, or in the supermarket and forgot which cereal was healthy for him. Stiles snatched up the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello, dad? Are you okay?" Mr. Stilinski sighed on the other end. "Stiles, where the hell are you?" "Uh, driving over to Allison's, I just visited Scott." "Come home, now." Then the line went dead. Stiles sighed and made a quick U turn. How was he in trouble? He had barley left the house in two weeks. He hadn't done anything that would make his father sound that tense on the phone.

After pulling into his driveway and headed up the side porch steps, Stiles cautiously entered his house. "Dad?" He called. Mr. Stilinski flew into the room. "Thank god." The relief on the sheriff's face was evident. "What's wrong?" "You're not going to believe me, come see for yourself." Was all he said while leading his son through the foyer and towards the living room. Sitting on the lumpy yet- more comfortable than it looks- couch was Lydia Martin. She was staring down at her hands, she was crying and looked so different from any other time Stiles had ever seen her. Lydia's usual gorgeous strawberry blonde curls were tied up in a high pony take, the strains straight. Some spars hairs draped down the side of her clean, makeup free face. Stiles could see the small peach colored freckles that dusted her nose from his place in the archway. She was wearing a thick sweater, probably one of her fathers that she cut the collar off. It tugged down her bare arm, reviling some of that soft glowing skin that he always itched to touch. Lydia was also in leggings, something she rarely wore. She did not look like a California girl in the dead heat of summer. He was glad that his father loved the air conditioning, or Lydia would seriously be breaking into a sweat. His father pulled him by the arm back into the hall. "She showed up about half an hour ago crying and looking for you. She hasn't said a word since. I didn't know what to do, son. I thought you'd be home sooner." Mr. Stilinski looked panicked. He had never dealt with an emotional young woman before, if you didn't count the ones he helped while working. That was his job, this was not. Stiles was almost glad that he never had a sister. How would his father handle that kind of pressure. Stiles gave a weak smile and patted his dad on the shoulder. "I'll take it from here, dad. Don't you have to get to work?" Mr. Stilinski nodded, though his attention was solely on the despaired sixteen year old in his living room. "Seriously dad, I got this. Go." Mr. Stilinski narrowed his eyes at his son. "No funny business, you hear me Stiles? I don't want you taking advantage of a girl who isn't in her right mind." Stiles just blinked. If anyone would be taken advantage of, it would be Stiles. "Okay dad, whatever you say. Be careful." Mr. Stilinski gave a curt smile and jogged down to his patrol car. Stiles locked the door behind him and headed to the living room.

"What the hell is going on, Lydia?" He asked, standing a good distance away from the girl. "Stiles?" She looked up at him, like she had no idea he came home. That concerned him. "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, taking a seat next to her. Immediately her arms flew around his neck. "I've missed you." She mumbled into the material of his shirt. It tickled Stiles' skin. "That doesn't explain why you were crying." He pressed, gently. "Oh." She pulled away, wiping at some dampness under her eyes. "I've been doing that a lot, lately." She laughed. She actually laughed. "Lydia?" "Look, I know that I confuse you and you are probably right to want nothing to do with me, but I can't take it anymore. Which is annoying, since I am Lydia Martin for god sake, I don't need anyone." Stiles smirked. "I'm sorry. I was just giving you your space. Jackson just left. I imagine that it's hard for you, with him gone." "Yeah" She sniffed, looking at a piece of brown velvet on the armrest of the couch that was waring away. "It's hard, but not having you there is hard too, Stiles." He saw the anger in her green eyes. He hurt her, and she wasn't going to admit to that. Part of him didn't want her to.

If she was to cave, break down the small amount of mental sheet rock that was keeping them at a distance, Stiles didn't know if he'd be able to handle the outcome. He loved Lydia, that was never a secret, but her caring for him, coming to his house to say she actually missed him, it wasn't how things were supposed to be done. And that scared him. In some odd way, Stiles keeping the doubt and stubbornness in the back of his mind, the pieces of him that said Lydia could never like him, gave Stiles some sense of control in this pending relationship. It cleared his head a little more, and kept him leveled. He didn't have to let his guard down, didn't have to let her in. Not just yet. He was allowed to save his heart, because the way Stiles saw it, whatever this was, it wasn't going to last through the summer. The novelty would tarnish and he would be right back where he started. This prolonged the inevitable. For a short while, at least.

"Jackson's mom came by to see me today." Lydia mumbled, she had moved completely away from Stiles now, there was a slender fleck of light that passed between their knees. He wanted her to be closer. "She isn't handling Jackson leaving well." Stiles looked down. In the end, Mr. Argent being the honorable man he was told the Whittemore's the truth, that their son went in search of answers of his biological family. It hurt them, and Mr. Whittemore used every connection he had to find Jackson, but they were told when he found what he was looking for, he'd come back. "How are you handling it?" Stiles found himself asking, though he really didn't want to know. "I was better, I was." She looked into his eyes. "I accepted it, but then Amanda came, and-" She sighed. Stiles' stomach flipped with the mention of Jackson's mother. Being on a first name basis with a parent is serious stuff. With a family like the Whittemore's, and in a town like Beacon Hills, at least. Stiles wondered if Lydia would ever refer to his father as anyone other than the sheriff. "I told her that he needed to do this, because, come on! He totally did. But she's just really worried. Jackson's never been away from Beacon Hills before, without his parents or Danny, anyway. They think he's all alone." She pouted.

Stiles let his hand rest upon hers. "He's not alone, okay, Lydia? He's with people just like him. Daniel gave Derek his word that nothing would happen to Jackson." Lydia sluggishly nodded. "He's going to have to make the decision sooner or later, if he wants to train as an alpha and leave the pack, but for now he is just doing what he needs to. Just like you said." Lydia smiled, her eyes were still watery but she didn't look as miserable. "Stiles, I knew you'd know what to say." Her hand squeezed his, engulfing his warmth. "Want me to drive you home? It's getting pretty late." He asked softly. "Oh." She mumbled, staring at their hands. She awkwardly shifted on the lumpy brown couch, and Stiles swore he saw her blush. "Could I maybe sleep here tonight?" She asked feebly. She looked up into his eyes bravely for only a moment. "My mom's at her sisters in L.A. I don't want to be alone." She admitted. Stiles gulped. Having Lydia tell him that she liked him, that was okay. Having Lydia come to him because she was sad, that was okay too. Having Lydia ask to spend the night was making his heart race inside his chest threatening it to burst through. "Uh- um.." He stammered, blinking at her. "S-sure." Lydia smiled then. It was a really dazzling one. Like a smile someone would be stupid not to return, and Stiles wasn't stupid. They climbed the steps together, and Lydia waited outside while he changed, and threw everything from the floor into the nearest closet. He let her in with shaky hands and invited her sit on his bed. "I can take the floor, or the couch if you want." Stiles started, pulling down the comforter for her. "You don't have to be chivalrous with me Stiles, after dating a guy like Jackson it's pretty much wasted on me." She laughed and crawled onto the side he had folded down. "Stay with me." She whispered, and Stiles tried not to hear the plea in the undertone. He just sighed, switching off his bedside light and crawled in after her.

It was nice. Stiles never thought of sleeping in a bed with Lydia Martin before, shockingly enough. The only time it ever remotely crossed his mind was the day he checked on her after Peter Hale attacked the video shop. Seeing the nightgown she wore to bed, how sexy her hair looked disheveled. It was nothing like that now. Laying in the dark with Lydia Martin was comforting. He felt completely safe with her there, listening to her breathing beside him, feeling the way her hand met his with a small electric shock under the cool sheets. This was better than what Stiles would have ever been able to dream up, the real thing was always better. Both teens couldn't deny that they slept better that night than either had in those two weeks apart, maybe even better than they had all summer.


	13. Chapter 13

**In regards to the last part... I am not very good at this... lol. Sorry! **

Stiles looked from his phone, to the sidewalk, then back to his phone. He was currently leaning against the side of his jeep, the sun warming his face, he stayed a safe distance away, on the opposite side of the street from the Argent home. He was conflicted, but, what else was new? Stiles had thought about it all night, what he would say to Allison when he got the chance. How could he look her in the eyes now? Everything Scott had mentioned was still swimming around inside his head, but more important was the look Scott had the other day. How was Stiles supposed to make this better? He looked at his phone again. The simple one word text message lighting up his screen. _'Coffee?' _ It was a normal occurrence, Allison always texted him to get coffee, but today was different. Today he had to go in there and talk about something heavier than what they'd been discussing all summer, which, by no means was child play. They, Stiles and Allison, were just two teenagers stifling through the mess that was their lives.

He sighed only once, and quickly tread through the tan gravel and up her front porch. He just as quickly opened the door and stepped inside. The foyer was at least thirty degrees cooler, and Stiles had an easier time breathing. He tried to ignore the Scott inside him scowl at his lack of a knock, he tried to forget just _how _welcomed into that home he was. Stiles paused, looking up the stairs that would lead to Allison. He didn't want to lose this, this sense of a family he had acquired. He loved Allison. He loved everything about Allison and her father. But he wasn't_ in_ love with her, and he knew he could never be. He ignored all his negativity and marched up the steps and finally, knocked on her bedroom door.

"It's open!" Allison yelled from the other side and Stiles entered with an awkward smile. "Hey." He breathed. "Morning!" She beamed at him. Her eyes were bright, happy. It had only been two days since he seen her last and at the time, she wasn't so lively. "What's with all the sunshine, Argent?" Allison smiled while hanging up shirts in her closet. "Scott called last night." She said, her back turned. Stiles let out a sigh he was holding in. "W-what he say?" Allison shrugged. "That he was sorry he hadn't called sooner, and he said thank you for saving his life. You know, the usual." Allison laughed while struggling to grab a shoebox on her top shelf. Stiles stepped around her, reaching for it, too. He was only three inches taller, but he managed to wrap his larger hand around a corner and drag it down. He hadn't realized how close they were and he immediately felt awkward. But why should he? They were friends, they've been closer. She was staring at him, and he shivered. "I didn't think you'd ever come in." She whispered, a frown forming on her face. Stiles blinked and looked at her row of windows. She had a perfect view of the other side of the street, where his jeep was baking in the sun. Stiles looked down. Allison grabbed his hand. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her, again. "Allison, I went to see Scott yesterday. He said some things.." Stiles started, walking away from her. "He, uh- he said that you had feelings for me." He wouldn't look at her, just out the window. A little girl and her father passed by his jeep. He counted to ten, Allison still hadn't spoken. He turned, cautiously. "Allison?" She was fidgeting with the shoebox. Her hands wrapped around it in at least six different ways. "Stiles..." She looked up. "Tell me he's wrong, that his jealousy is just making him paranoid!" Stiles offered, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. Allison tried to ignore it. She bit her lip and let the box fall to her bed as she stepped in front of him. "He's not entirely wrong." She spoke slowly, every word having time to absorb inside Stiles' mind. "He's not?" The boy asked weakly. Allison smiled and looked away. "Is it that hard for you to think someone could like you?" She made it sound like a joke, but her voice was too tender for it to be anything but honest. Stiles shrugged. "I love Scott. He's probably my soul mate, if I believed in one of those." She looked down. "But, being around you, it's just easy. You've never let me be anything but myself. And you are way too good to me." She smiled letting her fingers trace up his arm, once. "I didn't mean to get a crush on you." She laughed. "Don't worry, I don't want to be your girlfriend or anything." She pushed his shoulder. Stiles tried not to seem insulted. "But I get why Erica likes you so much, and that is why I was so supportive of you getting over Lydia, it takes a second, Stiles. Seriously, just a second to see how amazing you are. And she couldn't. So I thought you deserved better."

Stiles licked his lips. Allison was perfect. Scott was lucky. "This isn't going to change anything, right?" Stiles asked. "I-I mean, we're still going to be close?" Allison smiled, grabbing both his hands and laughing.. "Close as ever." She nodded. Stiles smiled and hugged her. He had to know coming to Allison with this wouldn't be awkward, unless he made it that way. She was meant for Scott, Stiles was just something easy, something sturdy and there. He was the support she needed and Stiles felt things for her too. Maybe he did have a little crush on her, because it only took a second to see how amazing Allison Argent was, maybe they were just _too_ amazing for each other.

"So I know that it isn't as good as Jo's, but.." Allison smiled. Their place, Cup of Jo's closed just as quickly as it opened. Stiles knew Jo wouldn't stay there, now that they got what they all came for, but Stiles was still half hopeful. Allison poured him a cup of decaf and went to work making herself a latte. Stiles stared at the coffee machine, it was like a robot. He seriously needed to get his dad to buy one of those. "So, have you seen Lydia?" Allison asked. Stiles' eyes lingered on the coffee pot longingly. "Uh, yeah, actually." He cleared his throat. Allison turned to look at him. "She may have slept over last night." He quickly sipped his cup, dodging her expression. "Slept over?" Allison's brow rose. She had a smirk on her full lips and Stiles had to look away, attempting to hide his blush. "No. _Not_ like that, Allison." He rolled his eyes. "Mind out of the gutter, please." Allison laughed. "I'm just as bad as Scott, huh?" Stiles nodded, in overwhelming agreement. "So, what happened?" She asked, smacking his arm for information. "Jackson's mom went to see her yesterday and it brought up all her memories of him." Allison rolled her eyes. "So Lydia came to you crying over Jackson, again?" Stiles frowned, but nodded, his jaw tight. Allison sighed. "Typical Lydia Martin." Stiles looked down. Allison groaned. "No, Stiles, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that." She walked closer towards him. "I just hate to think of you as her rebound." Stiles nodded, she had a point.

After coffee, Stiles went home and thought about everything Allison had said. Lydia had come to him, again, because of Jackson. There was no denying that, and though Jackson left two weeks ago, there was no ignoring him. He was still everywhere. Stiles sighed while laying on his bed. It smelt like honey, it smelt like Lydia. He didn't know what to do. He had finally gotten through the Allison-Scott drama and now he had to face his own demons, his own, personal, strawberry blonde demon.

Lydia smiled while smudging some of the flour on her cheek. She hadn't baked in years. Jackson didn't eat anything sweet, and her mother was _always_ on a diet, so she never had any need to. But Stiles and his father were so nice to her the previous night and she had to thank them. It was while she was mixing the chocolate batter she thought of sleeping next to Stiles. He didn't hog the bed like Jackson used to, and he never tried to touch her. She couldn't help but realize how bitter that last thought was. She wanted Stiles to touch her, hold her, kiss her. She wanted Stiles, and Lydia Martin never thought she'd feel _that _way about him. He was so innocent, like a puppy. Lydia looked down at Prada, who was waiting for something sweet to drop on the floor. She rolled her eyes and poured the chocolate into a cake pan. She had no idea if the Stilinski's liked chocolate cake, but she did, and she really didn't care. She wasn't sure going over there would be a good idea. She had left rather early that morning and Stiles had barley said more than a sentence to her on the drive to her house. But it wasn't awkward. They were okay. She knew they were. She just had to prove it to herself.

"Lydia!" Mr. Stilinski grinned. He was pleased that the young woman in front of him was smiling, not in hysterics or boy sweaters. "Nice to see you again, come on in." Lydia stepped through the threshold and handed the plastic cake transporter to Stiles' father. "This, is for you." "For me?" Mr. Stilinski chuckled. "Thank you, Lydia. But the office has been slow, don't think I've done anything to deserve a cake." He teased. Lydia smiled. "It's for letting me stay here while I was crying like a psycho last night. I am very sorry for inconveniencing you." "No inconvenience." He smiled, but there was a frown setting in, Lydia could see it. "Are you feeling better, now?" Lydia nodded. "Much. Is Stiles home?" The sheriff nodded, staring at the cake admiringly. "This chocolate?" Lydia nodded. "I'm going to go see Stiles." She excused herself, walking up to his room.

Stiles' head was hanging off the bed, his phone pressed to his ear. "So I don't know what to do now! She's still totally in love with Jackass and I don't want to make myself believe that she actually likes me until he comes back and she forgets I exist again. Dude, tell me what to do!" Stiles begged his best friend. He had called Scott after getting home, telling him that him and Allison worked out their issues, and they are still friends, no romance involved. It seemed to please Scott enough, he said he's call her again. Which was a plus, Stiles was not expecting. "Allison says that I'm a rebound, but I need a guys opinion." "Allison's pretty smart, Stiles. Jackson is going to come back, but we don't know what he's going to chose. Lydia likes you, I already told you that!" Stiles rolled his eyes. "Call him Jackass. His name is officially Jackass." There was a knocked on the door while Scott laughed in the background. "Dad, I'm on the phone, I'll be down later!" He called, pulling his cell away from his face. "But seriously, she slept over, and now-" There was another knock. "Jesus..." He muttered under his breath. "One second, Scott." Stiles rolled over, letting the blood rush back down his body and stumbled to the door, dizzy from moving so quickly. "Oh my god." He mumbled.

Before Stiles stood Lydia Martin. She was smiling at him. "Scott, I have to go. Call you back." He didn't wait for a reply, just hung up and pushed his cell into his pocket. "What are you doing here?" Lydia stepped through, shutting the door behind her, still smiling. "I baked a cake for your father, as a thank you for letting me stay here last night." Stiles' eyes widened. "You told him you slept over!" "No, of course not." Lydia snapped with a quick roll of her eyes. "Anyway, thank you for being so nice to me. I know I was a complete mess and Jackson is the last person you want to hear about, it's just-" She paused, Stiles was too busy wondering if she heard his conversation. "I trust you enough to talk about things I wouldn't talk to other people about." She shrugged. Stiles smiled. "Well, thank you for trusting me. But did you say cake, before?" Lydia blinked. "Yeah?" "Crap." Stiles muttered. "My dad can't have cake. It is not on the list his doctor gave him of friendly foods. Lets go downstairs." "Wait!" Lydia snapped, grabbing his arm. She did not want to lose her nerve. "I didn't get to say thank you to you." Stiles' brows furrowed. "Yeah, you just did." Lydia rolled her eyes. "For the love of god Stiles." She muttered before wrapping her arms around him, bringing their lips together.

Lydia felt his arms circle her waist, pulling her closer, and Lydia was not disappointed. She had this idea in her head, that the last kiss between them was too good to be true, that she had imagined it. But standing there, in Stiles' bedroom, where their last kiss occurred, Lydia couldn't think of a single reason why she would have thought that. This kiss was even better than the first. She sighed as he pulled away. His eyes were still closed but he was licking his lips, breathing heavily. "T-that's a thank you?" He laughed. Lydia smiled innocently. "I just wanted an excuse to do that again." She whispered onto his lips, pressing hers against his warm ones again. Stiles melted into her. Parting his lips slightly so he could captures hers better. It was still innocent, but both teens could feel the need, the buzz of electricity inside of them. Lydia looked up at Stiles, everything she was feeling clear in her green eyes. He'd be surprised if he wasn't as readable. She let her arms drop from his neck to push his chest lightly, he walked backwards until he hit his bed, falling down onto it softly with Lydia on top. He groaned. "Lydia. I don't think this is a good idea." He whispered. "Sure it is." She mumbled back, lightly kissing his lips.

Stiles gulped, feeling her lips travel across his jawline. _"Oh my god."_ He whispered to himself, feeling her giggle above him. This wasn't right. He couldn't let this happen. He knew better. His father was home! But Stiles let her continue to kiss him, and he let his hands roam over her exposed, soft skin. He brought her face back to his and kissed her. It was deeper than before and a little more rushed and Lydia didn't care. She liked it, all of it. She could literally feel Stiles slowly become comfortable beneath her. She could feel him relax and just enjoy this. Something Stiles never really did anymore, enjoy himself. She wanted to give him that, wanted to let him know that life could be fun, that there were certain experiences in life that didn't always come with such a heavy price. He debated for over a minute before actually flipping over, so he was hovering over her. Lydia's eyes shot open, surprised with how quick and smoothly that happened. She smiled at him and rose to her elbows. "Are you okay now?" She whispered and Stiles nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was. He kissed her again so he wouldn't have to think about it and Lydia rested back on his mattress, enjoying the feeling of Stiles on top of her.

It was either an act of god, or the devil himself taunting Stiles, but his father's loud voice broke the two teenagers apart. "Christ." Stiles gritted his teeth, pushing himself off the bed and awkwardly combed a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding and Lydia looked just as nervous. The two left Stiles room and stood at the foot of the stairs. The front door was open and Mr. Stilinski was talking to Scott, another familiar boy at his side. Scott's eyes met Stiles' quickly and he knew, without a word from his best friend, something was wrong.


	14. Chapter 14

**I like this one a little more than the last...my writing as been totally off... sorry guys!**

"This better be important, Scott." Lydia barked disapprovingly at the two teen boys. The four had left Mr. Stilinski at the front door and tracked their way back into Stiles' bedroom. Issac was shutting the door behind himself, smirking. "Were we interrupting?" He asked in a lingering voice. Stiles shook his head quickly but Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Obviously." She spat, crossing her arms and sitting back on Stiles' bed. Scott turned away, trying not to laugh at how red his best friend was. Stiles couldn't believe she said that. Sure lying would have been futile, but she was Lydia Martin, if someone could lie to a werewolf and get away with it, it would be her. Stiles cleared his throat. "You heard the lady, what's the emergency?" Scott sobered, his face growing serious. "Another man is dead." He mumbled quietly. Stiles blinked. "Shit, really?" Lydia scratched her forehead in a nervous way. "Really." Issac sighed, dryly. "Does he...?" "Yeah." Scott whispered, trying to swallow the lump in this throat. "So, two dead men with the alpha mark." Lydia clarified. "And the alphas aren't even in town anymore." Stiles paced the small walk from his desk to his bed, trying to get his brain to think of something other than Lydia sitting there so invitingly, anything other than what had just happened between them. "What does Derek say?" He asked in a rugged breath. Issac looked at Scott. Scott looked back. "Well.." The werewolf drawled awkwardly. Lydia rolled her eyes. "_Well_?" She asked impatiently, letting her eyes dart to Stiles who really couldn't seem to care less that they could be continuing what they started instead of listening to the two idiots.

"Derek ran away." A voice from the window offered, smoothly gliding onto Stiles' desk and then onto the floor. Lydia's perfectly defined brow rose, a sharp gesture at Stiles. "Does she do this often?" Came the sweet, yet deadly voice. "What? No!" He yelped, awkwardly smiling at Erica and rubbing the back of his neck methodically. "What are you doing here?" Scott asked, stepping close to her. "You guys were taking _forever_!" She snapped back. "I'm sorry, did you say Derek's gone?" Stiles asked, breaking the werewolf tension. "Yeah. He's obsessed with finding his uncle." Issac answered. "He is driving himself crazy." Scott added with a saddened edge. "He's driving _me _crazy." Erica scoffed while crossing her arms. Lydia smirked. "Where is he even going to look? Peter could be in Mexico by now." Stiles asked, annoyed that the man who was supposed to be an alpha, a strong calculating leader was using his rage an embarrassment as determination to fix all his mistakes. "We sent Boyd with him. So he's not alone." Erica sighed, sitting on the edge of Stiles' desk. "I don't think he's gone." Lydia spoke, looking at the floor. "Sure he is, Boyd said they were heading into the the forests surrounding Oregon before his cell lost service." "No, not Derek Hale. Peter Hale. He's not gone. I can... feel it." She shivered.

Stiles frowned looking at her. They had never talked about how hard it was for her, how alone she had to feel with Peter Hale controlling her every thought, every move. He absorbed what she had done and taken it as an attack on their lives, on their weathered friendship. He didn't stop to think of how much that monster hurt her, he just thought of himself and what her lying caused him. They hadn't talked much about anything, he realized. Lydia was just human, nothing more, nothing less. She was affected by the murderous, manipulative man just as any of them, and she was handling it in her own, close it all off to the world, way. Stiles wanted to hold her hand, to kick his friends out and let her confide in him, something Lydia previously said she wanted to do with Stiles. Why hadn't they talked before? Stiles looked down, not wanting to think of how much substance was really in this twisted _not-_relationship they were currently in. He cleared his throat, ignoring the nagging comment that seemed to consume him as of late. Things really would have been easier if he had just gotten over her like he planned. She wouldn't be smack in the middle of this. Jackson would probably still be right here in Beacon Hills being his entitled pain in the ass self... things would be back to normal.

"That's it." Stiles mumbled, startling his friends. "What?" Erica asked, impatience in her tone. "It's Peter. He's doing all this. He killed those guys!" Scott shook his head. "We'd smell him." He argued. "What if it wasn't that simple?" Stiles asked. "What if he magically made his scent vanish or something?" "Magic? Do you hear yourself?" Lydia scoffed. Stiles licked his lips. "Fine, maybe not magic, but something!" Issac stood straight, he was still near the door. "No, Stiles may be onto something." "Really?" Stiles and Lydia said at the same time, different tones coating their voices. Stiles glared at her, and she smiled back up at him. "Think about it" He compelled to Scott and Erica. "When he was around, I can't remember recognizing his scent." Erica furrowed her brows, tucking her red bottom lip into her mouth. "I can't remember right now, maybe." She offered tiredly.

"Where is the body now?" Stiles asked, pushing off the side of his bed and rifling through the bottom drawer of his desk. "What are you doing?" Lydia asked. "It's at the hospital, the Argent's got it." Issac answered. "I think those men were killed for a reason, and we are going to find out why." Stiles said, turning to face the group. In his right hand, Stiles held a thick ring of keys that couldn't possibly be his. Scott grinned, a distant memory surfacing, while the others wore expressions that ranged from scared to confused.

The station was dark, only the back lights burning. A single officer sat at the front desk, a tired, weathered old man that was pushing eighty. Beacon Hills police department had been running low on staff since the murder-spree in April. Stiles still felt a chill run through him every time he stepped into the cold, detached station. He didn't know how his father did it all day, stay here and try to act like nothing happened. Clearing his throat, Stiles spoke quietly into the walky-talky he insisted on having. Lydia teased him, but he felt like a secret agent. And if Stiles was going to risk his life,and his father's job, again, he was going to be the best damn imaginary agent he could be. "Okay, outside the station. Going to go around back. _Over._" He hissed into the dark plastic. "Is that really necessary?" Erica asked at his side. "Yes." He snapped, his eyes narrowing at her. "Lets move." He hissed under his breath, scaling the perimeter of the brick building. "I feel like Charlies Angels." Lydia laughed, walking along side Erica. Erica nodded her blonde curls bouncing in agreement. The three managed to make it inside using the stolen key chain that Stiles always kept for _special_ circumstances. Once locked inside his fathers office, Stiles was quick to unlock the filing cabinet, fishing out a finger-scanner. "Okay, you know what to do?" He asked. Erica rolled her eyes. "Stiles, stop whispering, the man's hearing aid's turned down. We're fine." Stiles pouted. "Seriously, out to ruin my fun." He muttered putting the small dark scanner into her open palm. "Go to the hospital, scan some dead guys thumbs, upload it onto a computer, easy." She listed off her task, grinning. "Alright smart-ass, go put your Catwoman rep to some good use." Erica smirked at Stiles, "Anything you say, Batman." She winked seductively and slipped out of the office.

Lydia cleared her throat. Stiles eyed her, tentatively. "No. You don't get to be jealous. We're not dating." He argued evenly. Lydia rolled her eyes. "I'm not jealous." She muttered under her breath. "What do we do now?" Stiles scratched her back of his head. "Well, I have to wait until Erica gets the fingerprints uploaded, then we start digging." "What do you want to do until then?" She asked coyly. Stiles knew what she wanted, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want the same thing, but it was irresponsible and immature, and everything being a teenager was about. Stiles rolled his eyes at her while bringing the strawberry blonde closer. "We need to talk about what we're doing here." He stated, rubbing the length of her bare arms. "What _are_ we doing?" She asked, her brows furrowed. Her eyes were filled with innocence and lust and Stiles was shocked he could read that in the darkness. It scared him. She was lusting... for _him_? It just didn't seem probable. She reached up and let her lips rest against his lightly. Lydia's eyes fluttered closed, as did Stiles'. He let his large hand get caught in her curls, lifting her head slightly so that he could suck her bottom lip into his mouth gently. Lydia sighed contently while wrapping he arms around his torso. The whole thing, kissing Lydia, standing impossibly close in a dark room, the way they gravitated to each other, it was so painfully natural. It wasn't like she hadn't known he existed until sophomore year, and it wasn't like it was a one sided crush. They seemed like a couple, worked off each other well. It was driving Stiles crazy. He laughed darkly. "I never thought I'd be making out with Lydia Martin on beds and in police stations. She smiled up at him, rubbing her lips together. "Is this too fast for you?" She whispered, her lips moving further and further away. Stiles wanted to lie, he wanted to say that he was cool with this, that he didn't mind the kissing and lingering sensation that it brought. Mostly because he didn't. He would give up anything just to continue having this with Lydia. But it wasn't enough for him, and Stiles felt it was fair, that he could be selfish with this. He never wanted to be the guy that just hooked up, and Lydia, for the longest time was that kind of girl. He wanted something more, something that would last, that he could tell his kids about. He didn't want fleeting kisses and stolen time. It was going too fast. Stiles jumped the gun, he wanted to know where they stood before they raced off the starting line. But were they too far gone down the trail to circle back?

Stiles looked at her, his honey sunset eyes smoldering Lydia. She couldn't breathe. He was about to answer her question when a voice came over the radio currently in Stiles' pocket. He broke away from Lydia to retrieve it. "What was that?" He asked, his voice heavy. "You forgot to say over!" Scott whined. "For the love of god." Lydia muttered ripping the walky-talky out of Stiles' hand and pressing the button. "Please Scott, do us all a favor and put someone intelligent on the other end." Stiles frowned and they both heard a familiar laugh. "Oh Lydia how I've missed that." It was Allison. Lydia blinked, taken off guard. "Allison." Her voice was soft, pensive. "Hey, Lydia." Allison breathed, sounding apologetic and strong. "Erica get there?" Lydia asked, ignoring the need to gush to her best friend. To yell at her for not being around, and to sob and tell her how much she missed her. "Yeah, she just arrived. We're using my laptop to upload the prints, what's your dad's email?" Stiles scrambled towards the computer. "Jstilinski " Allison radioed back. "Okay, sent." She whispered. "Got it!" Stiles called back. Lydia sighed, pressing the button. "We got the email, we're going to upload everything we can find, then meet you all back at the Hale place." "Sounds good." Allison agreed. Lydia placed the walky-talky on the table and hovered over Stiles, watching him fly across the keys to the computer. She was impressed. She knew Stiles had the brains, but he knew what he was doing no matter the situation. Lydia smiled, very much impressed.

There was more than one light on at Derek Hale's house. Signaling to Stiles and Lydia that Derek was obviously not back yet. They walked into the living area that had somehow become a meeting room to see the group sitting around. Stiles let out a low whistle. He hadn't been back at the creepy old house in the woods in some time and he could see the changes. Issac came to stand by Stiles' side. We've been helping, me and Boyd. We're going to make it a proper home for him, one of these days. Lydia smiled at Stiles' other side, Stiles' laptop pressed against her chest. She found it amazing how Issac was so devoted to Derek, that they really were family. If Jackson came back, he could have that too. She thought sadly. "So, are we going to get started or call HGTV?" Erica sneered. Stiles rolled his eyes tugging his computer from Lydia's grasp. "Down girl." Lydia clicked her tongue. She wasn't sure when this flirty banter started or if it had always been there and she was just too stupid to notice, but she wasn't liking it. As if on cue, Erica turned to Lydia, raising a brow in a challenging type of way. The group circled around Stiles. "You're not going to believe what we found!" He started, powering on his Mac. "I mean, seriously, it's insane. I think we need to wait for Derek to confirm, but-" "Just get on with it, Stiles!" Scott rolled his eyes.

"Rude." Stiles whispered to himself and started to talk. "Okay so the first guy that we found on Fourth of July is named Edward Michelson, the one that was found today is Adam Nolan." "Were they easy to find?" Allison asked softly. "Surprisingly yes." Stiles nodded. "They were already in the system." Lydia informed, wiggling her brows. "Criminals?" Issac assumed. "Government." Stiles mumbled back, grimly. "Crap. That's not good." Scott shook his head. "They are both part of this top secret sector that we found completely by accident. I mean seriously, there was nothing to go on." Stiles ranted. "But.." Lydia sighed, stopping Stiles from babbling endlessly. "Stiles was brilliant really, he got an encrypted file, and I mean it was tough, neither of us knew what we were dealing with until-" "I kept seeing these same letters repeated over and over." Stiles added. "LSPA." The teen still sounded puzzled. "Well, it came up too many times to be just a coincidence so we went looking and-" "You will never guess what it stands for!" Lydia gushed, excited. "Is anyone else getting a little sick of them finishing each others sentences?" Erica growled, rubbing her temple for affect. "It stands for Lycanthrope & Shape-shifters Protection Association." Stiles concluded. "You're kidding." Allison laughed without any humor behind it. "No, I'm serious. It's sort of a myth, like an urban legend. There was only one article I could find on it, really. But, just like how Allison's family are werewolf hunters, these people try to protect werwolves." Stiles smiled, proud of himself.

"That can't be right, no one even believes in werewolves." Scott disagreed. "That's not true, my father knows plenty of people who do." Allison mumbled. "So these two men were like conservationists for werwolves?" Issac grasped, skeptically. "Precisely" Lydia nodded in her matter of fact tone. "Edward Michelson and Adam Nolan were two of the last five members of this organization on the west coast. They mostly reside in Europe now. From what I found, they know everything there is to know about werewolf mythology." Stiles concluded, in awe over these men. "Looks like someone can finally give Stiles a run for his money." Erica teased. "But what does that mean now? It doesn't make sense for Pete to just kill these people, they are _pro_ werewolves." Allison questioned. "I don't think it's there alliance, I think it's their knowledge." Lydia answered somberly. "Derek has to know something about this." Issac believed, "We need to get him back here." He sighed, pulling out his phone and stepping into the hall. "And we need to find these last three members and make sure Peter can't get to them, for whatever reason." Scott informed, his tone was demanding and authoritative. Clearly now that Derek was off running away from his issues, Scott was in charge. Stiles nodded and fiddled around on his lap top, searching for anymore information he could about this LSPA and it's last three surviving members. It was going to be a long night.


	15. Chapter 15

It took Derek Hale two days to get back to Beacon Hills. Boyd knew he was just delaying the inevitable, but hadn't said a word about their sluggish movements through the lush, wet woods. Derek was quieter than usual, pensive and bruiting. The alpha was in no mood to go home, to a place where everyone betrayed him and he had betrayed them in return. Beacon Hills was just one large reminder of how inadequate he was at being a leader, being in control. He was better off alone. He looked to his side, seeing Boyd pick up some speed, he must have spotted the Camero too. Derek sighed, fishing his pockets for his keys. Only thirty minutes and they'd be entering the towns limits. Derek was radiating frustration, he just hoped Boyd was smart enough not to bring attention to it. The two hadn't spoken much on their five day field trip. It was one huge disappointment. Derek thought Peter would go north, find other packs that stretched across the Canadian border, the ones his father used to speak highly of. Derek growled under his breath. He had been thinking of his family more and more these days. Sometimes it was easy to block it all out, but other times, like now, it was nearly impossible not to imagine his mothers smile or his fathers wise eyes. The same calculating eyes that Peter had.

Derek felt foolish, letting Peter stay, not ripping out his throat the first chance he got. It wasn't in Derek's normal nature to admit that he was wrong, or that he actually cared, but he did. Part of him was thrilled when Peter showed up that day back in May, just as snarky and charming as he had always been. It was like a gift from God, and Derek wasn't sure he believed in that. But having his uncle back, despite what the man had done, what he was still capable of, gave Derek a sense of hope, that he wasn't alone, that he didn't have to keep dragging more and more teenagers into his problems. He felt terrible about that. He looked at Boyd. The two had been driving for about ten minutes now, the dark silhouette of his beta was looking out the window, a grim line on his lips. He was sensing everything Derek was feeling. Boyd had a keen attribute for letting others emotions consume him. He was a very compassionate wolf. Derek wished he would stay like that.

He wasn't sure why he was being summoned back to Beacon Hills, as far as Derek was concerned, they were all far better off without him. He knew that Issac and Erica sending Boyd was just insurance that Derek would return. "Thank you, for coming with me." He stated quietly. Boyd nodded once. The beta saw the sign, Beacon Hills was fast approaching. "We believe in you, Derek. Even when you don't." Boyd looked at his alpha, his dark eyes boring into Derek's light ones, confidence within them. Derek could sense the apology in them as well, for when he and Erica left, when they _didn't _believe in Derek. He couldn't blame them, really. He had no idea what he was doing, running seemed appealing, even now. "That's because you have to." Derek sneered, concentrating on the road. Boyd grunted, muffling a laugh, or a scoff, Derek wasn't sure. The pair flew past trees, entering the woods quickly. His insides were twisting tighter and tighter, the closer they got to the house.

"You ready?" Allison asked with a kind smile. Stiles swallowed, hard. "Sure..." He sighed. Allison laughed. "Don't even worry about it. You've found out so much for us, Stiles. Be proud." She squeezed his arm, letting her hand drag down the length of it. Stiles looked away. "She's right." Scott mumbled, stepping closer to the two, awkwardly. Stiles appreciated Scott speaking to both Allison and himself directly, coming to terms with their friendship, and being okay with it. Stiles smiled at his best friend. "You know Derek scares me." He pointed out to Scott. Allison rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself." Stiles made a face, looking insulted. The door slammed open against the wall, everyone jumped. "What is it?" Derek demanded, stepping into the living room. "Hi to you, too." Erica crossed her arms, stepping in front of him. Derek gave the blonde werewolf a curt smile, walking around her, facing the group. "Well?" He asked, impatiently. "Another body was found, with the same alpha mark as the first one, the other night." Issac started, seeing as no one else was about to speak. "And we know it wasn't the alphas since they are long gone." Scott added. Boyd looked at Derek. The alpha stayed motionless, jaw tight. "Anyway, Stiles had this brilliant idea, and we fingerprinted the two bodies, and found out who they are." Lydia continued. "They are both in the government database, which was odd, since there has been nothing reported about either disappearance." She pulled a few sheets of paper off the table and handed it to the alpha, like this was a school presentation. Derek accepted the sheets, but did not look at them. Lydia nudged Stiles, for him to start speaking. The teen cleared his throat and in an awkwardly timid voice began. "The men are part of this top secret organization that has been around since, like, forever." Derek wore an expression of boredom. "Ever heard of LSPA?" He asked, offhandedly.

Derek's mouth twitched, fighting a frown. His eyes looked away from the group, signaling to the teens that he had heard of them. "What about it?" He asked in a rough voice. "Well, the two guys who are dead, are two of the last five members. We kind of think your uncle is killing them." Stiles' voice grew faint. Derek rubbed his jaw, his free hand flexing into a fist, creasing the papers he didn't care about. "Wouldn't put it past him." He stated coolly. "So, it really is a_ real _thing, then?" Stiles asked, his eyes excited. Derek nodded. "Cool..." The boy whispered under his breath. "We've been trying to find the other three members, but it's like impossible." Scott sighed. "I know of one." Derek said quietly, turning from the teens, memories clouding his thoughts. "Who? We need names, because we think Peter is hunting them down!" Lydia asked impatiently.

Derek stayed quiet, he was too deep in thought, he couldn't hear the kids anymore. Boyd cleared his throat. "If he's not going to say it, I will." He started, grabbing their attention. "The alphas haven't left." He said, softly. Lydia lost her breath. "What?" She asked. "They aren't' far from here. We caught their scent on our way to Oregon. They're in the woods a little more north, but not too far." He clarified. Lydia looked down. Stiles licked his lips, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "So, it could have been them that killed those men after all?" Allison asked. Stiles shook his head. "I really don't think so." Issac nodded. "I agree. They never wanted to fight with us." Erica sighed. "You weren't there, not the first time." She exclaimed, standing closer to Boyd. "They said they were _watching_, it was all pretty ominous." Stiles shook his head, again, walking towards Derek. "I need that name." He stated quietly. Derek turned to him, his eyes glowing with anger. "I'm going to see him." "Who?" Stiles questioned, his eyes narrowing with Derek's retreating figure.. "Walter Bishop." Derek muttered, leaving the teens, leaving his house in the woods.

Walter Bishop was his fathers best friend. He was one of the only men Lucas Hale ever trusted. Derek remembered fond memories of Walter coming to the house, always bringing a sense or warmth and protection with him. He was in his late fifties now, Derek couldn't even imagine what the man looked like, but he knew where to find him. So did Peter. Derek revved his engine, leaving the woods without another glance. He had to do this alone. Mr. Bishop had done many favors for his family over the years, even after death. Laura was the one that kept in contact with him when the two moved to New York, but it was Derek's turn to return the favor. If it was true, if Stiles was right, Peter was looking for Walter, looking for answers to questions that Derek could only dream up in his many nightmares. It was his responsibility to fix this.

Lydia had remained quiet the rest of the afternoon. Stiles tried not to take it the wrong way. Her fire and fight was gone. She let him do all the research on this Walter Bishop that Derek was so vague about. They found out he was a professor at a college, UC Davis, only an hour away from Beacon Hills. His field of study was philosophy. Stiles hoped that Derek got to him before his uncle did. Mr. Bishop could be a lot of help, maybe explain to them what they should be prepared to fight, what they should do about an alpha pack, and why Peter is hunting the top secret, ancient organization. The ride home was awkward. The sun was descending behind the trees at a rapid pace, showing the two teens just how quick summer was slipping away, sort of like this passion they seemed to have recently developed. Lydia had her arms crossed tightly around herself, hugging her emotions inside, by the looks of it. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, trying to focus on the road, trying not to feel rejected by Lydia. Just a day ago there was still a flame in her eyes for him, two days ago they were rolling around on his bed, recreating his every dream. But now, now she was cold and detached and Stiles knew he was losing her.

It felt wrong to even think of Lydia as something he had, knowing that Jackson was still so close. It was like he was in the jeep with them, monitoring their every move. Stiles sighed, Lydia looked out the window. The sky was filled with pinks and purples that signaled another hot day on the horizon. When he pulled up in front of her house, she didn't make a move to leave, Stiles shifted into park and let his head rest on the seat. "Yes." He mumbled softly, not sure if she could hear, but it would be too difficult to repeat. "Yes to what?" She whispered back, her voice was heavy, as were her tired, green eyes. "It's all going too fast for me." He cleared his throat, not having the nerve to look at her. "That's what I thought." Came her detached response. This was the Lydia Stiles knew. Not the one that kissed him, wanted him, came to him willingly. This Lydia, the one that just realized that the guy she _actually_ loved was still within her reach, was what Stiles knew and expected. This was for the best. He cleared his throat. "So." He tightened his grip on the wheel. "So.." She answered. Her voice was breaking, but Stiles ignored it. "I have to go." He licked his lips. Lydia sniffed back a quick comment and unbuckled her seat belt. "I'm sure you'll be going with them tomorrow, to see the alpha pack." She made doomed conversation while gathering her bag. "No, Lydia, I'll just let you give Jackson my pleasantries when he comes back." Lydia glared. He wouldn't look her in the eye and that hurt more than anything else Stiles could say with the expectation to upset her. "Yeah, I'll be sure to do that." She spat slamming the passenger door to Stiles' jeep and waited there, on the sidewalk for him to leave. It was to make a point and Stiles was sick of trying to figure out the meaning. He drove off, leaving her there. Lydia refused to cry.

It was Saturday again, Mr. Stilinski was out back, cooking turkey burgers, that he had no interest in and Stiles was sprawled on the living room floor with Erica Reyes draped on his lumpy brown couch. The pair was supposed to find more information on the LSPA, search for the other two nameless members of the group while Issac, Boyd and Scott went looking for the alpha pack, to see if they had any contact with the secret team. It was Stiles' idea, but he had no desire to go to them. He'd slow the others down anyway. He also didn't want to see Jackson, act like he didn't loathe the pretty boy, who even though he wasn't in town, wasn't_ with_ Lydia, he still was. He would always be a part of her. Stiles couldn't accept that. They were known around town as the same person. When you brought up Jackson, Lydia's name was sure to follow. It had always been that way, ever since the beginning of their twisted and dark relationship. It had never bothered Stiles until now. Now when there was a chance that Lydia could actually want to be with someone other than Jackson, when she could actually want to be with Stiles. But the sixteen year old knew he screwed that up, and that Saturday was his to feel sorry for himself.

The two opted for not doing any work and to just watch movies instead. Erica picked some shameless romantic comedy that she laughed at every other second. Stiles wasn't paying attention, Erica didn't care. She was enjoying herself, sitting around, being a teenager. Stiles enjoyed the company, having someone who wouldn't bother him about talking, or push when she wasn't wanted. Erica always noticed, she was great with subtle detail. She always knew when something was wrong, but she was tactful enough not to bring attention to things until someone else did. Erica was a great listener, Stiles remembered well when she listened as he explained that he was just emotionally not ready for a relationship with someone, that he needed to figure out who he was without linking it to Lydia Martin and all her overrated glory. Erica couldn't be upset with him for that, he never lied to her.

"Erica, why'd you stay with me instead of going with them? They could have really used you." Stiles tried not to realize how quick her smile dropped. Erica paused the movie. "Am I bothering you, Batman?" She asked tentatively. "Come on, you know you're not." He answered. "But there's more too it, right?" Erica looked down. "Even though we totally owned them in that fight, they still freak me out." She admitted, jokingly to Stiles with a quick roll of her shoulders. Erica was trying really hard to seem indifferent, to not show the boy beside her, her true feeling. He nodded at her. She was scared, and didn't want to deal with it all. Even though Erica came back to Derek, more devoted than ever, she still had her limits, her boundaries that she wouldn't cross. "What about you?" She asked, sliding onto the floor beside him. "Why didn't you go?" Stiles rolled his eyes. "I think I'm missing some important equipment." He wiggled his fingers and bared his smooth, even teeth at her lamely. Erica laughed but shook her head. "You need to start seeing yourself clearly." She admitted, turning her body towards him. Stiles rose a brow at her, she mimicked his action, looking flawlessly playful. He liked this Erica, not the one that flirted just to piss off Lydia. The one that actually wanted to be around him.

"So, what happened with you and Lydia, yesterday?" She asked. He knew she would. This pity party was all fun for the both of them, but Erica wasn't about to ignore the meaning behind it. "It's about Jackson being so close, right?" She asked quietly. Stiles nodded, staring at his hands, he could still feel the silky texture of Lydia's long, curly hair if he thought hard enough. Erica stared at his hands too, the ones that held her close and saved her life. He would never see that. He would always see himself as weak, even when he took on an alpha werewolf on his own, even though he was the core of that pack. He had to know. He was just too busy feeling sorry for himself. She grabbed the hand he was staring at, breaking his concentration. "You need to get over this, Stiles. So she broke up with you, were you two even really together?" Erica asked. Stiles shook his head. "I sort of broke it off with her, actually." He looked at her sharply. No one ever thought of him as the bigger person, and he was sick of it. "Oh." The blonde breathed. "Why?" Stiles licked his lips. "Have you ever liked someone so much, but no matter what you do, no matter how much attention they give you, you know it's not enough, that there is always going to be someone else?" His eyes were searching her darker ones. They were soft, sensitive. Her hand left his quickly. "Yeah, Stiles. I know _exactly_ what that feels like."

Stiles sighed, realizing. "Shit, Erica, I'm sorry. I-" Erica moved back onto the couch. "No. It's fine Stiles, really." She cut him off. "I got over it. I moved on." She mumbled to him. "That's what you have to do." She insisted, pressing play and immediately laughed. Stiles frowned, looking at his hands again. When it was love, real love, you can't just move on. You_ can _step back and let the person you love be happy. Maybe that was what Erica was doing, without realizing it, because Stiles knew that was his goal. He knew he loved Lydia and he was going to let her make her own decisions, Stiles was just going to make the choice a little easier for her. Jackson was going to come back, he could feel it, and Stiles knew he couldn't compete with him. He didn't want to. It was easier pushing Lydia away than it was to wait for the inevitable rejection.

Derek knocked on the door to the large red brick, teal shuttered home. It was beautiful, warm looking and it had a vast, green lawn surrounding it. There was a thick oak tree with a tire swing that he faintly remembered pushing his sister, Laura on when they were kids. It took the man on the other side of the door a minute to answer. "Hello." The wan, aged smile greeted. Derek blinked in surprise. Walter Bishop aged more than he thought. His hair, that used to be as dark as the forest Derek lived in was ash white, he wore thin glasses that hung on his nose, the tan skin that he always remembered was paler, dark liver spots covered his exposed, leather arms. Derek was taken back, Walter Bishop was sick. "May I help you?" The man asked wary. He was searching his mind for where he knew Derek from, he was sure. The alpha outstretched his hand, Mr. Bishop accepted it with an odd look in his eye. Whether it was Derek's intention or not, large, ugly black veins stretched above the elder mans skin, pulling themselves along the adjoining hand, into Derek's stronger, toned skin. Walter Bishop shuttered, catching his breath, quickly dropping this visitors hand. He looked back up at Derek a moment later. "Hale." He whispered, half to himself. "I don't believe it." He chuckled lightly, bringing Derek in, and hugging him in a nurturing way. Derek awkwardly patted the shorter man's back. Feeling out of his comfort zone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Don't think I can express how unbelievably sorry I am for taking a century to update... if anyone else lives on the East Coast and was hit by the hurricane, I am really sorry and hope all is well! **

"My, my..." The husky voice groveled in dismay as it's owner casually walked around the front rooms perimeter.

"I know it's different." Derek grunted, awkwardly standing in the convenient shadows.

It was easy to tell how this house, and everything within it's decrepit walls stood as a reminder, as a lesson in some way. Walter Bishop flashed the young man a kind smile, strolling the edges, his eyes lingering on certain areas of the room, his mind far off, in the past. He was remembering, just like Derek knew he would.

"Many great days at this house." He commented, nodding, mostly to himself.

Derek inhaled a sharp breath through his nose, leaving his comfort within the shadows and stood beside the man he had known his whole life.

"You must feel close to them, being here, yes?" Walter asked, gently.

His goal was to not upset Derek Hale best he could. He knew how difficult this was, knew that sharing the remains of his childhood home, the memories and knowledge was just tearing at more vulnerable pieces of his tattered soul.

Derek didn't give Mr. Bishop an answer. He wouldn't burden his fathers friend with all his nightmares, all the thoughts he pushed aside, all the screams and distant aromas of smoke he dealt with day to day. No one deserved to live with that, no one but Derek. Walters shaking, frail hand grazed the far wall, which held several pictures. Derek didn't want them there, Erica had found the cluster of frames in the attic, or what was left of the attic one morning, stringing them up, a dazzling reminder of how wrong Derek was, how catastrophically he screwed up.

"Peter.."

Walter sighed, his thick fingers coming to rest on the smiling, devious face of his missing uncle. Derek grunted.

"We can't find him. I feared he'd be after you."

Mr. Bishop nodded. "That is why I'm here?"

Derek turned to the shorter man. "My father would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you."

He confessed honestly. Walter smiled, his cheeks wrinkling with the accustomed mold of his lips.

"Yes, well, we have work to do."

Walter Bishop ended the conversation by shuffling into what was once the living room. He opened his brief case that sat on the folding table, which was already covered with thick texts and blue prints. Walter didn't want to know what those were for, deciding on sticking to one issue at a time.

"I assume you have a pack." Mr. Bishop heard Derek's hard steps enter the room.

"Yes, but you're not going to like it." He answered, an edge to his voice.

Walter sighed, neatly placing several small journal-type notebooks in a small, empty space on the table, nodding in agreement. There were many things he wasn't liking already.

Allison laughed, using the paper towel Stiles offered to wipe her upper lip. She was in a noticeably better mood these days. Stiles knew it was because of Scott and how he and Allison were building up a friendship, something that wasn't going to be ruined because of their ever growing feelings for each other. Stiles wished he thought of that. Maybe if he and Lydia had worked on an actual friendship, maybe if she actually knew a single thing about him, they wouldn't be where they were now. Though, Stiles knew he was to blame for the distance he put between him and Lydia, he couldn't bring himself to regret his decision. She'd be happy with Jackson. She loved Jackson.

The dark brown curls tossed from side to side, dazzling like a million tiny diamonds embedded into the strains when the sun streamed through the kitchen window. Allison was animated, it was like the darkness was behind her. She smiled and laughed, and could carry conversations, but Stiles could still see it. There, deep in her brown eyes, far behind the gleam of a simple teenage girl, and past the huntress she had become. There was something hard and firm about Allison Argent. Stiles wasn't sure if anyone else would be able to see it, if Scott would be able to see it, but the fear and tension she hid would always be a secret they shared.

"God, I'm talking too much." She confessed, placing down the ceramic coffee mug Stiles had surprised her with when she showed up that morning. It was a deep brown, a tribal bow and arrow hand painted onto the cup with careful maroon strokes. It was beautiful, quirky, and simply, only something Stiles would think of. She liked it, made her feel strong and confident, without needing the dangerous weapon in her grip.

"You're fine." Stiles rolled his caramel colored eyes.

"It be a very boring morning if you shut up." Allison grinned at him.

The sound of Allison's cell phone buzzing on the counter beside them startled the breezy conversation.

"Derek's back." Allison mumbled, placing down her coffee cup.

The two were in Stiles' kitchen, deciding on having their regular coffee date there, before getting the signal to head to the Hale house. Derek left to find Walter Bishop two days before, he was supposed to have all the answers. He was supposed to help them. Or so Stiles hoped. Derek had no idea what he was doing, and no one else seemed to worry enough. Stiles felt alone in his anxiety, suffocating in the fantastical, horrible things that were happening, that were out of his control.

Stiles Stilinski wasn't one to give up, he was a sucker for lost causes. It explained his crush on Lydia Martin, for example. But this, Peter Hale ruining their lives wasn't something he was willing to drag out. He'd stretch his Lydia plan to fifteen years if he had to, but he refused to finish out the summer without having an end result to the resurrected dead alpha problem. Stiles guzzled down the rest of his cup and placed it in the sink.

"Lets go, then." He grabbed his keys and gave Allison a guarded smile.

The woods were cooler, a sharp breeze infiltrating through the trees and chilling Stiles to the bone. He had no idea why, it couldn't be cooler than eighty, but he was suddenly freezing. Allison graced him with a comforting smile, but it did nothing. It didn't make sense until he saw her. The strawberry blonde curls were up in a neat bun, reminding him of ones his mother used to wear around the house when she'd clean on Saturdays. Her green eyes were looking through him, like only Lydia successfully could. He had hurt her. It was funny, since not too long ago he was positive that Lydia Martin had no emotion at all.

"Hey Lydia." Allison greeted. "Hi." Came the careful response.

Lydia had not forgiven Allison for going insane a few months back, neglecting the friendship that she desperately needed. If Allison didn't go off grid, if she just let someone in, let Lydia in, she never would have went to Stiles all those months ago, she wouldn't be feeling the rejection that came with the awkward sixteen year old, either. It made her angry. Jackson didn't even make her feel so foolish. It sucked because it should. Stiles was full of surprises.

"I didn't think you'd be here." Stiles said, numbly.

"We need to find this bastard. I'm helping, no matter whose talking to me or not."

She glared and walked in, dragging Allison, to both said girl and Stiles' surprise. He thought it was just force of habit. She had been alone all this time, having no one, and Allison was a comforting sight. Stiles let his head fall, as he followed the two girls inside.

Inside the dark, gloomy house Stiles noticed everyone was already there. Erica smiled and signaled for him to sit near her. He knew all was forgiven from his carelessness from a few days ago. Everything looked the same. Same bruiting Derek, same soot filled house, but something was different. There, sitting in the corner was a tiny man, he was at least twenty years older than his picture on the internet, but it was Walter Bishop. He looked over at Lydia, to see if she realized, her green eyed gaze already on him. He smiled at that. She looked away. He missed her.

"Listen up." Derek demanded, standing in the center of the living room.

"A few days ago Stiles found out that Peter was hunting down members of the LSPA. This is Walter Bishop, a family friend, and a member of the organization. He's going to help us find my uncle."

Walter Bishop, a small man rose from the folding chair he sat in, standing at Derek's side.

"Let him talk." Derek hissed. But his glare was solely for Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Hello." His cheery voice cooed.

"Derek has filled me in on the highlights. Peter has resurrected, and is seeking answers on how to maintain full life."

The elder man didn't look like an expect on werewolf mythology. He seemed like a grandpa who handed out candy on Halloween and instructed the little children to properly examine their treats before eating them.

"There is but one way to do that. Now, this information is to stay in strict confidence. I fear Edward and Adam lost their lives because they wouldn't give up the secrets." Mr. Bishop tottered back to his briefcase.

"A resurrected werewolf is rare, but not uncommon, as you all seem to know. In order to resurrected fully, to maintain life, and have full access to their abilities, said werewolf must kill an alpha. This will not make him an alpha, it will just restore his place in a pack." Walter Bishop clarified.

"But he never tried to kill me." Derek insisted, his strong arms crossed over his chest.

"You are not the kind of alpha I am referring to. No, no, your uncle would need a specific kind of alpha. One from a pack of other alphas."

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Issac guessed, his eyes challenging, the room still.  
"Tell me what?" Mr. Bishop removed his glasses.

"We maybe know of an alpha pack. We lost a member of ours to it." Derek wouldn't meet his eye.

"You didn't think something like that would be important, Derek?" Derek lowered his head.  
"I'm trying to keep you safe as possible. The less you know, the better." Derek snapped.  
"Derek. Do not use a tone like that with me. I am a fairly capable man." Mr. Bishop chided back.

Stiles found the whole situation rather amusing. Derek, a strong, tall, alpha male was being scolded by a frail old man half his size. Erica nudged Stiles in the stomach once Derek looked over at them. Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Lydia rolling her eyes at him.

"We, uh, Issac, Boyd and I were just visiting that pack the other day." Scott offered.

"And? How do you know this pack?" Mr. Bishop asked mildly.

"We thought they were coming to kill us at one point this summer, but ended up being a total misunderstanding, mostly Peter Hales fault, they just wanted our friend, Jackson. He's part of their pack, and all. But we didn't know that until it was almost too late." Scott shrugged.

Walter Bishop set his aged eyes on Derek. "You see? This is why I told you having teenagers in your pack was preposterous! They are children! You are making children do your bidding?"

Derek sighed. "It's not like that. They are far more trouble than anything else." He grumbled.

"Hm." Walter replied, still sore with Derek.

"This member of your pack, Jason or whomever you said, he is one of them? What do you mean?"

"His name is Jackson." Lydia corrected, sternly. Mr. Bishop ignored her.

"He was born from parents part of that pack, but they died and he was adopted. They've been searching for him." Boyd answered.

"He is one of you, a teenager."

"Yes." Issac nodded. "Does that make any difference?"

"Oh yes." Mr. Bishop sighed, sitting back down.

"What?" Derek demanded.

"Peter is going to be after Jackson."

"What? Why?" Lydia demanded, all but standing up.

"I said a resurrected werewolf must kill an alpha, but there are special circumstances, Peter cannot kill a full, adult alpha. I wasn't aware that there was a child in the group." Walter gave a pointed glare at Derek while cleaning his glasses.

"So he's going to go after Jackson, because he's weaker?" Stiles asked.

"I'm afraid so. You need to bring him back. Keep him safe. Peter will never be strong enough, you can fight him off, together." Mr. Bishop stood. "Now, I think I will be checking into a hotel, I don't feel safe here." He smiled kindly at Derek. "I will check on you soon."

"You, would you be a dear and help me bring this to my car?" Mr. Bishop signaled to Allison.

"Of course." She smiled, grabbing his briefcase and several scattered books and followed the shorter man out.

"You're not a wolf." He stated while placing his thick black bag next to a small antique looking luggage.

"No, I'm just a friend of them." Allison blushed, her smile bright.

"What is your name?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Allison, Allison Argent." She shook his hand.

Walter Bishops eyes widened. "An Argent?" He whispered, astonished.

"And they trust you?" He asked, his hand still engulfing hers.

"Yes, I'm not a threat."

"Not anymore." Erica snorted, walking into the woods with Issac and Boyd.

Allison sighed, Issac gave her a apologetic smile.

"I know your family." Mr. Bishop nodded. Finally letting go of the girls hand.

"We've never seen eye to eye."

Allison smiled. "I know, what you are and what I am doesn't matter now. We're all after the same thing."

"Oh, you think that." Walter smiled sadly. "Nice meeting you, Allison."

He got into his small yellow car and drove off. Scott and Stiles came to stand on either side of her.

"Do you think he should be driving, at his age?" Stiles teased.

Derek walked up and slapped the back of his head. "He is capable. You heard him."

"Oh yeah, I heard him put you in place." Derek glowered at the teenage boy.

"I am going to make sure Walter is settled in. Later, we need to talk about how we are getting Jackson back."

"Later?" Lydia asked, jogging down the steps much faster than any of them had ever seen her. "Why not now?"

"Peter doesn't know that he needs Jackson yet."

"Don't be a fool, Scott." Lydia snapped.

"Lydia." Allison gaped.

"No, he knows. That's why he brought the alpha pack up in the first place! He knows about everything. I know he does. He is going to kill Jackson and all you can do is say wait until later?" Lydia glared, tears threatening to stream down her face.

"Lydia." Stiles walked in front of her. "We don't know that yet."

"And you! You'd probably be happy is Jackson died!" She snapped. A thin pale finger flashed before his eyes. Her pink nails waving around frantically. Stiles could only look at her.  
"You hate him! You can't see what I do, and you'd wait forever before trying to save him!"

Stiles gaped at her disbelievingly. That was what she thought. There was only hard, cold truth to her words. She didn't have faith in any of them. She wanted Jackson back, now. She had no idea that he was the happiest he had ever been. According to Scott. He wasn't acting like a pompous jerk, he wasn't fighting for affection. He just belonged. If anyone could help him, it would be the pack of alphas. They were stronger than Derek's twisted little pack. They would know how to fix everything. Couldn't Stiles and his friends have one normal week of summer before everything fell apart again? Couldn't Lydia see that it was taking a tole on all of them? Not just her?

"Just forget it." She seethed, letting her eyes bark the rest of her thoughts and marched to her small car parked at the base of the clearing. She sped off into the dark path, the dry dust collecting in her wake. Stiles watched her go, speechlessly trying to grasp why he felt so responsible.

It was a quarter to seven before he finally made his decision. He knew that he was doing this solely for the purpose of making Lydia Martin smile, but Stiles was okay with that. Her happiness had always been enough for him. He granted himself five minutes to think about her while he collected the usual necessities one would bring on a road trip. Allison texted, signaling that she was outside, and Stiles scribbled a note to his father in his haste out the door.

"What do you want?" Lydia asked, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

She would not admit it to him, but she was thrilled he was there. She was alone, Mrs. Martin out on her first date in over a year. Lydia was happy for her, so she pretended like she was fine being alone. But she wasn't. Had Stiles sensed that? Was he following her? She tried not to smile at him, feeling awkward. He was looking everywhere but in her eyes. The hall light spilled out onto the porch, the brightness obscuring everything but Stiles.

"Look, I know you were really upset this afternoon. None of us want Jackson to die Lydia, especially me." He was looking at her now, his hands gripping onto a worn map of California rather tightly.

"But I have to agree with you, that Peter knows all about Jackson joining that pack and being a sitting target. Which is why I am giving you seven minutes to run upstairs and throw some clothes into a bag. We're heading north."

Lydia waited for the smile to spread across his full lips. She waited for him to say 'just kidding' and raid her fridge, or roll his eyes and ask if she actually believed that he would care. But why wouldn't he? It was Stiles Stilinski. He was too good. Once Lydia figured he was in fact serious she left him with a small smile and rushed up her stairs in very un-Lydia like fashion.

Once she wrote a note to her mother, Stiles' suggestion, he lead her down the path of rose bushes towards a dark truck parked at the end of her driveway. From the porch light shinning in between the bushes, Lydia noticed Scott and Allison in the front seats. It looked like one of the Argent's cars, she concluded, hopping into the back, wedged between Issac and Stiles, as he closed the door.

"Okay, what's going on?" She asked tiredly.

"This is all Stiles." Scott admitted as he carefully turned to watch the road as he reversed.

"Really?" Lydia asked, looking to her right at him.

Stiles gave her a rather sheepish expression and shrugged.

"Where's Derek and the other ones?" Lydia questioned, looking in the trunk behind her.

Allison laughed and turned in her seat. "It's just us. Derek doesn't know, he'd probably kill Stiles for even suggesting this. Erica and Boyd stayed just in case Peter comes back or Derek needs help. We're going to bring Jackson back with us."

Lydia smiled at her friend, Allison had turned back to monitor how Scott was driving her father's car.

"I'm sorry, Lydia." Stiles whispered into her hair, sending a small shiver up her spin.

She didn't look at him, but she nodded, knowing that it wasn't for Jackson or for agreeing with Derek before, she knew that this was something deeper, for giving them space. After having time to think about it, she agreed with him. But at the moment the only worry on her mind was Jackson and his safety. But that was Stiles point after all, wasn't it? The way she felt about Jackson Whittemore was where Stiles had finally drew his line. Lydia couldn't hate him for that.

The ride was long, the trees past in dark blurs, the stars were obscured by gray clouds in the early night. Rain was coming, Beacon Hills desperately needed it. It may wash away the heat that loomed over the town. The car stayed quiet, Allison fiddled with the radio dials, asking politely what everyone wanted to listen to. Issac grew his inhuman claws and retracted them methodically for over an hour. It kept Lydia on edge.

Scott explained that the area that the alphas were camping at was secluded in the thickest section of the woods, and they would have to travel on foot for about a half hour to find it. Lydia didn't care, she just needed to see Jackson's face, know, finally, if he was okay. She hadn't asked the wolves when they got back from visiting just days before. Lydia wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle her thinning emotions if he wasn't, or if worse, he was happy without her.

The car stopped in a small gravel parking lot that was the clearing before the woods. She wasn't exactly sure where they were, but Lydia was positive it wasn't California. The air smelt like rain and what she considered to be green. The thought made her roll her own eyes, and she graciously accepted Issac's hand as he silently helped her out of the SUV.

"Lydia, you brought different shoes, right?" Allison asked thoughtfully, lacing up her own hiking boots.

"Oh.." Lydia mumbled, feeling foolish. She knew they were going into the woods. "No, I-"

"Here." Stiles dropped something and it took only a second for her to catch his gift.

They were worn, a film of dried mud circled the exterior, and they smelt a little like the sheriff, but they were boots and they beat walking in laced sandals

"Thank you." Lydia grinned up at the boy.

He shrugged again. "I had an extra pair, they were mine, years ago. My dad doesn't throw anything away."

Lydia rolled on a thick pair of socks she always slept with and stepped into them, surprised that they fit, if not a little snug. She then tied her thick hair in a sloppy braid, and grinned as she saw Allison motioning for her to do the same to the brunettes curls.

"Ready?" Issac asked, the first words he'd spoken all evening.

He looked tired, Lydia noticed. But then, he was dragged into issues beyond his control. She knew he probably lost a coin toss, to see which one of the three betas had to come along on this silly road trip. If she wasn't already involved, she would not be happy to be there, with them.

The five marched into the woods, it annoyed Lydia that Scott said not to use a flashlight. Stiles kept one handy, just in case. Issac and Scott could see perfectly in the dark, and Lydia was sure Allison had freakish werewolf hunting superpowers, but she wasn't as equipped. Her phone stayed in her hand, just in case she needed it's dull light to save her life. Stiles walked behind her, insisted that it wasn't safe for her to be last. Last ones in the line always day first in horror movie. Lydia didn't argue, she watched her own fair share of movies, she liked Stiles, but she'd rather him get the ax first.

"Don't virgin's always survive though, Stilinski?" Issac had asked in a teasing voice, eavesdropping on their conversation. His comment had made Stiles blush harshly in the darkness. He was thankful no one could see. Stiles planned to make a mental list of all the girls Issac Lahey could have slept with in Beacon Hills as they made their way deeper into the forest.

Derek slammed the door to the hotel room that Walter was staying in. The elder man looked up from a small brown book he had been reading. He hadn't even flinched. Derek assumed that it was from being so engrossed in the supernatural world for so long. Nothing scared him anymore.

"What's the matter now?" He deadpanned. His small eyes narrowing even more from the bedside lamp.

"They left and took my beta with them." He growled.

"Who?" Walter asked closing his book and making room on the edge of the bed.

"Scott and his little pack. They've gone to find Jackson and took Issac with them."

"Scott is not part of your pack?" Walter asked.

Derek let his head fall into his hands. "Not exactly, no."

Walter Bishop sighed, a thick hand resting on Derek Hale's shoulder.

"Derek, it's okay to need help." His voice was gentle. Derek didn't want his pity.

He jumped to his feet, for the first time startling the man beside him, and walked to the window. He could see the trees rustling in the wind, the storm clouds directly overhead. The weather was fitting.

"It's my fault, Walter. I had my chance to kill him, I hesitated and look what happened."

"Peter is your family, your only family, Derek. No one is going to blame you for wanting to cherish that for as long as you can." Walter insisted.

"No? What if I've just sentenced all of them to die. Like you said, they're only kids."

Walter smiled sadly, looking out the window along side Derek Hale.

"So are you." He whispered, just as the rain clouds broke.

"How much longer?" Stiles groaned.

He thought this time would be different. It was balanced, three humans, two wolves, and yet, he was still the weak link. He saw Lydia give him a warning glance over her shoulder. Stiles could not deny how sexy it was that she was some camping guru type.

"Not much, wanna take a break?" Issac asked, teasingly again.

Stiles had concluded that the only girl that Issac Lahey could have slept with was Erica, and the thought sent a odd rush of protectiveness over him. He may not have had the same feelings for her, but he respected her enough to know that she couldn't just sleep with someone for the hell of it. Which lead Stiles' mind to wonder if Lydia Martin ever slept with someone for the hell of it. Besides Jackson, that is.

"No, I don't need a break. I'm just concerned. It's going to rain soon, doesn't your werewolf senses get screwed up in the rain?"

"Wouldn't know, doesn't rain much is California." Issac sneered back.

"Guys, look! There's light!" Allison pointed in the darkness.

"Oh thank god." Stiles mumbled, once he saw it.

"Okay, let Issac and I go first, if they feel threatened and want to attack, we have the best chances."

Scott ignored Allison as she cleared her throat in a rather offended way.

Lydia's heart was pounding, she'd be shocked if even Stiles couldn't hear it. She didn't know what she wanted to believe, that Jackson was miserable or that he was happy. Neither thought made her feel any better. What if he didn't care about her? What if he found someone else? Lydia rolled her eyes. He was stuck in the middle of the woods, he wouldn't be finding anybody else. She sighed loudly, and tried to pretend she was okay, sensing Stiles' eyes on her the whole while.

"Okay, come on." Scott came out of no where and grabbed Allison's hand, tugging her along.

Stiles and Lydia followed. The red heads nerves twisting her insides.

The campsite was small. There were five tents in a circle around a fire. They looked like a bunch of friends on a camping trip, to anyone else. Daniel greeted Allison, Stiles and Lydia when they cut through the greenery.

"Hello, it's good to see you again." He nodded. Stiles wished he could say the same.

His kindness was already lost on Lydia. Her mind far off, her body shifting to find Jackson.

"Your boyfriend is getting more firewood, he'll be back shortly."

Lydia blushed, wishing she wasn't so noticeable. Stiles stepped a little further away from her.

"Now, what can we do for you?" Daniel asked. Scott and Issac looked at each other.

"Let me get this straight, Peter Hale is coming to kill Jackson so he can come back to life?"

Jo asked, her cat like smile gleaming in the orange flames.

"We know it's crazy, but it's the truth." Allison spoke curtly to the redhead who betrayed her.

"That may be, who told you this? Peter Hale?" Daniel asked, amused.

"A member of the LSPA." Stiles offered, coming to Allison's aid. A satisfied smile on his face.

"What?" Jo asked. Her smile wiped clean off.

"That's right." Stiles grinned, stepping closer to the alphas. "We have a member in protection. Peter is killing them off one by one to get the information that will lead him straight to you."

"We can fight him off easy." Felix rolled his eyes.

"Totally." Franklin added, snarling at Lydia for affect.

"We want to take Jackson back with us." Lydia glared at the twin boys.

"What can you offer him that we can't?" Daniel asked.

"Except poorly executed attack plans." Jo scoffed while crossing her arms.

Allison glared. "Peter is our responsibility, we want to be the ones to end this."

Daniel smirked, liking the fight in her. Scott stepped closer, misjudging his content.

"McCall? Stilinski?" Jackson's voice called from the darkness.

The group turned, seeing their friend with a thick bundle of kindle. Behind him, a large Lionel.

"Jackson!" Lydia whispered running to him. He dropped the wood and cradled her in his arms.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you." He whispered into her hair. "What are you doing here?"

"Jackson, your friends have a proposition for you." Daniel began, his calm voice lower than normal.

Jackson broke away from Lydia, but laced their fingers together, walking back into the circle.

"What is it?" He questioned, looking around at the familiar faces.

"Peter is attempting to hunt you down, to kill you." Issac stated dryly.

"What?" He scoffed. "Why me?"

"Because you're not a fully matured alpha yet, and you are weaker than these guys, and he needs to kill you to come back to full life, or something along those vague lines."

Stiles shrugged. His good mood gone. He hated how close they were, Jackson and Lydia.

"Are you all high?"

"Yeah Jackson. We're completely stoned out of our minds right now." Stiles added, glumly.

"What do you think?" Jackson asked Daniel. Ignoring Stiles unneeded sarcasm.

Lydia's brows furrowed. Why was he looking for his opinion.

"They're telling the truth, you need to come home with us. We need to protect you." Lydia tugged on his arm.

"Jackson, this is your decision." Daniel offered.

He looked down. Away from both parties. "You're sure?" He looked at Scott.

Scott nodded, surprised he wanted his opinion. "Coming home will keep them protected. There aren't many like you, we don't want anything to happen to your pack."

Allison smiled at Scott. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Jackson nodded. "And we can fight him off alone?"

"He's weaker because he's not fully alive." Allison answered. "He needs to kill an alpha to restore himself, we have the advantage."

Jackson walked away from his friends, from the teens who grew up with him.

"I will be back." He promised Daniel.  
"I know you will. Your parents would be so proud." Daniel smiled, clapping Jackson on the back.

Jackson offered a tender smile and walked back over to the group. "Come on, lets get this over with."

They left moments later.

"You didn't really mean that before, did you?" Lydia whispered in the darkness to Jackson.

"Mean what?" He asked.

The two were sitting in the trunk of the SUV. Scott was driving on the empty highway as the rain finally fell. Allison was still fiddling with the radio, Stiles and Issac asleep in the back seat. Lydia wasn't tired. Jackson was back, but different. She needed to know why.

"That you'd be back. You're not really going to go back are you? School's starting in a few weeks."

Jackson looked down. "Lydia.." He sighed.

"Oh my god." She groaned. "You like it there, don't you?"

Jackson looked up, his eyes were as honest as she'd ever seen them. He nodded slowly.

"I'm becoming the person that everyone who cares about deserves. I've realized how horrible I was, and that figuring out who I am, and what I'm meant to be, is more important than missing you desperately." He smiled. "Because I do, Lydia. If you had any doubt, I miss you so much."

Lydia looked away, her eyes glassy. "You still can't say it." Came her sad whisper.

"No." He admitted. "That's something I'm not sure I'll ever be able to do."

Lydia gave up blocking the tears and crawled across the trunk to Jackson's awaiting arms.

She missed him. Nothing else mattered.

On the other side of the leather seat, Stiles choked on his regret. Sleep the furthest thing from his mind, but his eyes couldn't stay open. With his ear pressed against the seats backing, he finally came full circle. He lost her again.


	17. Chapter 17

**So.. it's sorta a filler... a long over due filler... **

**I'm sorry, and writers block sucks!**

"You_ do _realize it's seven in the morning, right?" Erica groaned while rubbing her eyes.

She was still in her pajama shorts and a hoodie that Derek instinctively recognized as Stiles'. Boyd didn't look any more refreshed, his stony expression enough to amuse Walter Bishop who strolled into the foyer of the Hale house.

"Ah, glad you could make it!"

He greeted charmingly, setting down his briefcase and stood beside Derek. He hadn't slept. Walter could tell, and it only fueled his desire to fix things.

"Now, I know that it's a little early, but I was up all night thinking, and Derek, you weren't entirely honest with me, but I wasn't as forth coming as I know you expected. So, this is going to be a bit of a training session." Walter smiled, pealing off his light blue cardigan.

Erica grimaced. He wore a clean white button down dress shirt underneath. The layers were making her sweat. She rolled up the sleeves to her sweatshirt and crossed her arms.

"We couldn't do this later?" She whined.

"No time like the present." Walter ended the conversation briskly.

He was too determined to take any complaints from a sixteen year old. He marched to the middle of the three werewolves and pulls a sleek silver blade from his pocket. Instinctively, Boyd and Erica took a step back. Derek only glared angrily at the weapon.

"I call this one, Linda." Mr. Bishop cooed, his calloused hands leaving prints on it's glistening plate. "You named your knife?" Boyd asked with a small smile.

It had no judgment, unlike if it was Erica asking the question. Walter sensed that and nodded kindly.

"Though, she is not just any knife."

He raised it higher in the air, letting the dusty light glisten off it.

"One hundred percent sterling silver. There are only a dozen of these in existence today."

The elder man informed letting the seven inch knife lay flat in his palms.

"She is the only thing I possess that will kill Peter, permanently."

Derek coughed, flexing his strong arms, while squeezing his hands together. Walter moved the knife back to it's case on the desk.

"So we need to just stab Derek's uncle with the knife and call it a day?"

Erica questioned with another yawn.

"Sure." Walter shrugged.

"But if you want to get the job done right, why not listen to me."

He snapped and Boyd grunted to suppress his laugh. Erica looked down and moved back to Boyd's side.

"We all know the _right_ way to kill a werewolf. Cut them in half." Walter paced the dirty wooden ground.

"Linda, is designed to have the same purpose, but instead, you stab this through the heart or the neck." Boyd shivered. "Pretty gruesome."

"It's the only way to ensure that Peter will not cleverly devise another way to rise again." Walter Bishop turned his back on the pack, towards his brief case.

"I have several tricks I can teach you. You of course have the upper hand, seeing as Peter is still far to weak to fight off _all _of you."

Derek made his silent exit, then. Mr. Bishops back was still turned, and Derek knew he would sense his departure, but he just needed to walk away. He wordlessly left, Erica watched him, his back to her, a weight on his strong shoulders. She wanted to make sure he was okay. Erica knew it wasn't just her gratitude towards the man that saved her from a life of misery, she knew it was something more, that she cared for him, that he was like a brother, a friend. She left Boyd alone to hear Walter Bishops ideas on how to kill a wolf, as she past him, she didn't think he'd mind being alone. He looked fascinated, and Erica wasn't surprised.

She found Derek out on the front steps, staring off into oblivion. The morning was still airy, a small breeze swiveled through the trees as she took the lonely seat next to her alpha.

"You okay?" She asked. Derek looked at her. His green eyes piercing in the morning sun.

"Go back inside, Erica. This is important." Erica rolled her eyes.

"I can hear every word." She whispered in his ear. Then she leaned back to study him.

"Besides, someone needs to make sure you're not going to run away." She mumbled.

Derek scoffed, letting his hands bawl into fits on the base of his thighs.

"You ran away once, I'm sure you can understand." He spit back. Erica swallowed.

"No one is blaming you. We need you now, more than ever. It's not your fault that your uncle is a lunatic!" She glared.

Derek just shook his head.

"Get over yourself and come back inside!"

She demanded, determination in her voice. Her brown eyes bore into his profile, trying to mentally sway him. The closer she looked, the more she imagined a ghost of a smile on his sullen face.

"Okay. You done?" Erica nodded, quickly. "Now go back inside!"

Derek instructed his beta, rushing his sentences. He knew Erica was trying to help, but he didn't need any other emotion evading his mind. Anger was all he had. He stood up, and Erica followed, realizing just how god like he looked in the humid light. Erica acted before thinking, it was something she never had the liberty to do before. She wrapped her arms around Derek, pulling him into a hug, something she knew he was not used to. But she didn't' care, and she wasn't taking no for an answer.

He would never see himself clearly, as the man that saved her life, saved _all _they're lives. He was always blaming the woes of the world on his own misfortunes, never understanding the importance he played in his betas lives. Erica hugged him with all her newly acquired strength, she was ecstatic when she felt one of his hands loosely rest on her back. It occurred to her then that the last and only time they were this close, besides the time he bit her, was when she was shoving her tongue down his throat. She let her chin rest on his shoulder and laughed at the thought.

"Thank you." Derek grunted, quieter than she'd ever heard him.

"Any time." She mumbled back.

"Am I interrupting?" An amused voice called from the clearing.

Derek and Erica broke apart, his face expressionless almost instantly. Erica had to blink.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice heavy.

Erica looked closely, a hand tangling into her wild hair. "Issac, you okay?"

Issac stepped close to the pair, a grim expression on his lips. He held out his phone, wordlessly.

There weren't any cars in the driveway, but Allison knocked anyway. She didn't know why she was so nervous. They had just spend the night searching for Jackson in the Oregon mountains. They had spoken to each other like civilized human beings, and Allison was racking her mind to figure out why it wasn't enough.

"Allison?" The voice was surprised as the owner opened the front door wider. "Come in."

Allison smiled and entered. She always loved Lydia's house. It was so clean and put together. It had that warmness to it, a mothers touch, that hers never truly had. Lydia lead Allison into the den, where the television was muted on the discovery channel. A pop song buzzed from her laptop on the seat next to the coffee table. The brunette sat down across from her friend, as Lydia shut the laptop and the cheesy sad song.

"What brings you here?" Lydia asked, carefully placing the computer back onto the table.

Allison cleared her throat and leaned in more. "I'm sorry." She spoke in her usual timid whisper.

"For?" Lydia asked, a small smile on her lips.

"For..." Allison sighed, looking all around the comfortable family room.

"For not being there for you when you needed me most. For going off the deep end and lying to you and for missing girls night, and blowing you off and for being the worst best friend in history."

Lydia let out a breath, looking away from Allison's sincere eyes.

"Wow." The red head laughed. "That's a lot."

"Lydia, I know that we probably can't be friends like we used to, but-"

Lydia furrowed her brows. "Why not?"

Allison looked up, surprised. "Well, because.." She trailed off.

"It's in the past Allison. I went crazy, you went crazy. Maybe we just needed each other to stay sane."

Allison Argent jumped from her place across from the shorter girl and attacked her with a fierce hug that neither were ready for. Lydia found herself laughing. She missed Allison, and she had no idea how much until that moment. Allison pulled away, a blush dusting her cheeks but happiness in her eyes. Lydia could cry from how relieved she was. Allison sensed it.

"What? What is it?" She asked.

"It's nothing, really." Lydia shrugged. "I just, needed a friend to talk to, and I'm really glad you're here."

Allison smiled. "Me too. Now spill!" The taller demanded.

So Lydia did. She went into a rant using words that Allison needed a few minutes to process, explaining how she would love Jackson for as long as she lived, but knowing that there was just something so undeniable about Stiles Stilinski and no matter what she did, she couldn't ignore him. He got under her skin, and Allison noticed how her smile brightened, and she nearly glowed once she spoke of the gawky sixteen year old. Lydia frowned when she explained how he wanted to give them space, that he was giving her a choice, how their whole relationship was built on choices and she didn't need to fight with him, unless she wanted to, and she never needed to sexually persuade him, like with Jackson. He wanted to take things slow, wanted to get to know her when he already knew everything, like re reading a book and finding a whole new meaning.

Allison sat there in awe. She felt terrible about wanting Stiles to get over Lydia. Never seeing this side to the girl that she had called her best friend for a little over a year. She was totally different, happy, selfless, brilliant. It was everything that Lydia hid with Jackson, and everything that Stiles was pulling out of her. The girl was impressed.

"So? What do I do?" Lydia asked, a little breathless at the end of her monologue.

She neatly patted down her curls, and smoothed out her shirt to maintain her restlessness.

Allison bit her lip. Wondering herself, what her friend should do.

"You know that Stiles and I are close now?" Allison started. Lydia didn't need to nod.

"-and I care so much about him, he's like the brother I never had." Allison shrugged.

"I want him to be happy just as much as I want you to, and after everything you've told me, Lydia.. You really need to tell him how you feel." Allison whsipered with a small smile.

Lydia looked away. She knew Allison would take Stiles' side. And it wasn't that she didn't agree with her friend, Lydia just couldn't ignore that this was the second time he pushed her away. Whenever he was unsure, Stiles' immediate action was to cut all ties to the issue, and Lydia was becoming a huge issue. She nodded at Allison just as her cell phone rang. She saw Jackson's name flash across the scren and smiled at the simplicity of it. She missed hearing from him. She felt safe, knowing that he was back home, where he truly belonged, regardless of how long his stay was going to be.

"Jackson!" The strawberry blonde greeted, Allison flashed her a sharp look.

But any annoyance faded from the hunters eyes as Lydia's grew concerned and wary.

"We'll be there." Lydia promised into the phone, standing up and shutting off the television.

"What is it? What happened?" Allison asked, panic filled her tone.

"I'll explain on the way. Your car or mine?" Lydia left the den, Allison quick on her tail.

The breeze was warm and the air was laced with unusual humidity. The boy vaguely remembered hearing on the television that today was the hottest of the summer in passing as he left that morning. Since then, he had been at the high school, proving to himself that he could go a whole day without getting caught up in the supernatural on goings of Beacon Hills. Knowledge was his drug. The sun was scorching, the boys exposed skin tensed with the raw intensity. Sweat dripped on his face, down his neck, seeped into his thin t-shirt. His rugged breaths mixed with the swooshing of the lacrosse stick was the only sound he cared to hear. He was focused, making team captain was an obtainable dream, something he was quick to lose sight of at summers start. But there were only two weeks left, his junior year of high school fast approaching, like the nagging ache in his chest ready to explode.

He ignored it. He ignored his lungs screaming at him, his heart thudding harshly against his ribs, the distant image of strawberry blonde hair tickling his face, he ignored all of it, for the sake of some peace. It was just him, a stick, and a net. He moved another large ball to the patchy grass in the center of the field. The plastic cup of his stick was smeared with dried mud, the field littered with murky holes from the previous nights rain.

He stifled a yawn, his body disobeying him on his quest to take it all away. The group hadn't gotten home til late, and by the time he crawled into his bed he was completely done, reevaluation his decision to make that one girl he seriously cared about happy. All the road trip did was punish him for not being good enough.

He chucked the ball at the net, missing and curing loudly. A few birds flew from their hideaways in the surrounding trees. The boy heaved, his sore hands landing on his knees while throwing his stick to the ground.

"You'll break it if you keep doing that." A voice suggested from the far end of the field.

The boy ignored the owner and collected his stick from it's muddy landing. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see how you were." The intruder shrugged innocently.

"Scott." The teen whined, searching through his bag for a water bottle he knew he packed.

"Stiles, seriously, it's too hot to be out here. Let's go to the pool or something."

Scott offered, sitting down next to his friend. Stiles looked up at Scott, his face red from the heat.

"I'm fine here." He answered stubbornly.

"Oh yeah, I can totally see that."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't need this!" He snapped.

Scott looked down, he knew coming here would cause a fight, but a fight well worth it. Stiles always knew what to say, and Scott needed to help his best friend, by being to him what Stiles always was to Scott. He knew he was pissed about Lydia literally jumping into Jackson's arms the other night. He knew that it hurt his friend to care so much for somebody that would always love someone else. But Stiles couldn't understand what Scott did. The feelings that Scott felt from Lydia. She was just as confused.

"It was like he hadn't been away for half the summer." Stiles muttered.

Scott smiled helplessly. "She doesn't know what to feel.."

"You're defending her? Lydia? The girl you've been teasing me about since third grade?"

Scott ignored the way Stiles' eyes narrowed at him, and ignored the constant inadequate he felt trying to make Stiles feel better. Scott wasn't good at this.

"Look, you can feel sorry for yourself all you want, but we both know it's not going to make a difference. Talk to Lydia. See how she feels before you go judging the situation."

Stiles winced. "You heard them, Scott. She loves him."

"And you love her!" Scott snapped. Hating the helplessness he heard in his best friends voice.

Stiles was meant to be the hope, the one thing in Scott McCall's life that would always stay the same. Lydia Martin was slowly ruining that. Whether she knew it, or whether Stiles knew it, didn't matter. Scott could see it, feel it like a pliable substance in his hands, but the teen wolf couldn't bend Stiles' thoughts to his will, like he was so desperately trying to do. Stiles shook his head, getting up from the dirty ground and stuffed everything into his lacrosse bag.

"Scott, we all don't have perfect little relationships like you and Allison. Something bad happened, did she go crazy? Yeah. But she's better, and she's a good person and you two are going to get through this. Not all of us can be as lucky." Stiles finished dryly, throwing the bag strap over his shoulder and walked to his car.

Scott wanted to follow him, but he knew Stiles was beyond reason. He felt like Lydia chose, even when he was choosing for her. He watched as the blue jeep reversed and drove out of sight. Scott debated getting up, it was peaceful out here, no one around. There was the faint chimes of the football team practicing for their upcoming season from the other side of the school, and lawn mowers in the distance, but Scott hadn't expected Stiles to hear that. If it was up to Scott, he would tune it all out.

He knew that was why Stiles came to school. He was tuning out the bad, and everything that was stressing him out. Peter Hale, murders, Lydia. But the latter was harder to ignore, especially being in a car with her on the three hour drive back home, as she welcomed Jackson back with open arms. He didn't know how she could do that, drop something good like Stiles for someone like Jackson. But Scott also knew that Stiles drove her to this, even if his best friend wouldn't admit it. He distanced himself from Lydia so that when the time came, it wouldn't hurt as bad.

Scott rose to his feet and crossed the field, making his way towards the woods. His phone went off as he was met with the refreshing shade of the canopy's, and safety of the thick forest. He licked his lips and smiled down at his device. Maybe he could understand how Lydia was so quick to let Jackson Whittemore back into her life.

"Hey Allison."

* * *

"Okay, I'm here. What I miss?"

Scott asked impatiently, not waiting for anyone in particular to respond. He threw his mothers car keys down on the entry table that was not there the other day, and pushed his way into the center of the conversation.

"Scott, calm down." Derek demanded, his green eye gaze glaring on him.

"Well, Allison sounded freaked out!" The teenager snapped, looking at his ex girlfriend.

"Sorry." The beautiful brunette mumbled sympathetically.

Scott paused for a moment. "What happened?" He asked again slowly.

Boyd looked at Issac and Issac looked back at Derek. Scott sensed it was something terrible. Lydia and Allison stood, backs resting against the far wall, Erica laid on the grimy couch just inches away from him, beside Jackson who awkwardly let himself sit stiff in the sunken seat. He didn't see Mr. Walter Bishop or Stiles, but knew the latter wasn't answering phone calls, and wouldn't know to come here.

"I was walking in the woods today, just clearing my head and I found another body." Issac sighed.

Scott's eyes widened.

"I called Allison's dad, because I knew Derek had a lot going on here, and we took him to the morgue. When we examined him, we didn't find markings."

Scott gave a lopsided smile. "That's good, right? Well not good, but better. It isn't Peter."

"It's worse, Scott." Issac mumbled, slipping his cell phone into his palm and fiddling around.

The off blonde then handed the cell to Scott, who took it with his signature confused expression. Upon further inspection, Scott's stomach flipped with the unsettling realization. The cold, lifeless body of a woman lay flat on a metal table, the nasty lighting making everything seem discolored and fabricated. Instead of the usual, misleading alpha mark, jagged lines and harsh grooves, there was a macabre note, engraved into the dead woman's skin, a bloody reminder that the nightmare wasn't over, in any case, it was just beginning.

"_Three down." _

Peter knew, and no one was safe.


	18. Chapter 18

Things escalated rather quickly. Even for the seemingly misguided and very unlucky group of Beacon Hills teenagers, the next few days were distressing and full of obvious question. Stiles reluctantly joined his friends after his father was tipped off to the sudden deaths accumulated over the summer. The boy still didn't know how he felt, and was unsettled by how quickly he could just give up on his friends, and his home in their time of need.

Derek Hale wasn't pleased either with the last death. That meant two things, Peter knew that the pack was tracking his transactions, and that there were only two more members of the LSPA left alive.

Derek pleaded with Walter Bishop to leave town, to go into hiding, to get out of the situation that Derek knew he alone put the elder man in. He feared for the his friends life, now, more than ever. Not knowing how far his uncle would go to get what he most desired.

Mr. Bishop shook off his late friends sons demand, feeling safer knowing where Derek was and what he was doing. Being surrounded by a plethora of werewolves, despite how young they were, gave him some amenity. He smiled brilliantly, taking years off his life when he spoke to the group of his last living coworker. He knew that they needed the information to protect her, to find her before the monster that Peter became could do to her like he had just done to Josefa Cortez; carve angry letters into her back as well, until Walter was the only one left with the information to banish Peter's troubled soul.

Lydia Martin could feel the tension in the dusty room, could cut it with the silver dagger Walter Bishop passed around. She wanted this all to be over as much as the rest of her companions, but with the end of Peter's threats and the school year around the corner, she feared that it would be the end of her time with Jackson. He had already told her he'd go back, that there was still so much that the alpha pack could do for him, but Lydia gripped to the trivial notion that he wouldn't leave her, that she was more important than finding himself. The young woman knew it was selfish, and she felt her dream of needing him more and more synthetic the longer she was under Stiles' careful scrutiny.

She could feel the tension like she could feel Stiles Stilinski's frustration towards the entire situation. She knew if this wasn't life or death, he wouldn't be here, and she knew if Jackson hadn't returned, they would probably be somewhere else together. Happily ignorant to their sudden reality. But they weren't together, Stiles made that clear, Jackson made that easier, and all of it made Lydia far too dizzy to stay standing for Professor Bishops theories.

"How are we going to get him here?" Erica wondered out loud.

Mr. Walter Bishop had filled the group in on what they needed to know. Peter would be weak, not nearly equipped to handle six werewolves and a skilled huntress. Though despite their advantages no one felt settled.

"We should plan something good, something he cannot turn down!" Issac spoke evenly, getting the encouragement from Allison who stood beside him, brain storming herself.

"No." Derek's voice altered everyone's thoughts.

"Why no?" Boyd asked tiredly.

"It would insult Peter better by just calling him out." Derek's steely gaze landed on Scott, an understanding between them.

"Should I go get the loud speaker and some pliers?" Stiles drawled.

Lydia gaped at him, confused.

"Come on." Derek grunted to his pack, the three betas and Jackson filed out of the house behind their alpha and Scott. Lydia stood awkwardly with Stiles, Walter Bishop started shuffling papers and Allison went to the corner to retrieve her bow. Stiles gripped at the laced stakes in his pocket for some assurance. Hearing Lydia's tattered breaths next to him made him yearn to reach out, to hold her, to smile and say everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't look her in the eye without feeling angry and foolish, so he stood his ground, a stony expression in his eyes and a prayer in his heart.

Derek led the group to a sparse area in the woods without trees or the comfort of the moon. The night was cool, Septembers rein fast approaching the small town. Scott nodded at Derek and the alpha's eyes turned a violent red. The pair roared, much like Scott had done that night in the school, when he first met the monster who turned him. Things were different now, Scott was different now. Jackson soon joined, and the betas didn't need an explanation to start their call as well.

Minutes later they heard the tampering of footsteps, Stiles and Allison entered the bare area, followed by Mr. Bishop and Lydia. The ten bodies were motionless, no one spoke, Stiles forgot if he was even breathing. Scott debated howling again, that maybe Peter wasn't in Beacon Hills, or in California. But his thoughts were finally answered when from the opposite corner of the terrain, out stepped Peter Hale, a calculating smile on his lips, a cold gleam in his blue eyes and a less than enthused hostage on his arm.

"Natasha!" Walter called to the woman in Peter's hold.

The older man went to step forward but Derek held him back.

Natasha Reeves, the last member of the LSPA that Walter Bishop had informed his new friends of, was collected in the strong and angry arms of the ex alpha. The older woman's almond eyes were fearless, her silver hair illuminated without light, and her full lips stayed expressionless. She wasn't afraid, she was dignified.

The scene chilled Allison Argent, memories flooded her mind, images of her aunt wrapped in a choke similar, the same mad determination on the man's face, his nails scraping the skin of her neck. She wanted to attack right then, a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Her eyes flickered to her left, Scott was shaking his head, silently urging her to not act rashly.

"Walter, long time no see." Peter grinned.

"I was just catching up with your friend. _Nat_ was actually about to tell me how to fix my certain predicament."

Natasha didn't even look at the man who was inches from killing her. She gave Walter a small smile, her first indication of knowing emotions.

Walter glared through his spectacles at Peter Hale. "Leave her alone, Peter. This is not you."

Peter Hale's smile only broadened. "You don't know who I am, old man. Or the lengths I will go."

Peter's eyes lost their light, and a dark, ominous glare landed on Mr. Bishop. "But you will."

He promised, roughly throwing Natasha Reeves to the ground and with speed, stood right in front of Derek.

"How've you been, Derek?"

Derek only glared.

"Still not able to talk through your feelings." Peter pouted with fake sympathy.

"Why do you still act like you have a chance of surviving this?" Derek asked, with a hint of amusement.

"Because I'm smarter than you." Peter whispered dangerously.

Derek stepped forward, until they were nearly chest to chest. "This is over."

Peter laughed while stepping away. He walked around lazily, ignoring the unconscious woman on the ground, ignoring all the glares aimed at him. It was all a joke to him, the murdering, the scheming, all of it. He hadn't changed and Derek wanted to drive the dagger through his heart just for letting him believe he could. Peter's eyes landed on Jackson, supremacy glazed over his blue stare.

"Why go through all the trouble" Jackson asked, knowing what he came for.

"Why not have just killed me when I turned?" Lydia grabbed onto Jackson's hand.

Peter seemed to ponder the thought. "I don't like getting my hands dirty." He shrugged.

"Besides, I didn't know until the alphas came to get you. Thought I would let my dear nephew steal you back for me." Derek glowered.

"You should have stayed dead." Derek admitted angrily.

Peter walked over to him. "All I wanted was to be there for you."

Derek wouldn't let himself believe it.

"Teach you all the things your father never got around to do... be a family."

Peter grinned, "I can still do all that, you don't need these children."

Derek glared, knowing it was a lie, but wanting it all the same. His hands twitched, wanting to wrap around his uncles throat. Peter was using Derek's weaknesses against him.

"Derek has a family." Erica stepped beside Derek, determination radiating off her flawless figure.

"He doesn't need you." Issac added, standing on the other side of him.

Boyd stood next to Erica, showing Peter, without words just how strong and large he was.

Peter laughed nervously, but did a beautiful job of masking it. "Derek, come on."

Allison signaled to Stiles to follow her as Peter started to ramble.

Scott stood on the opposite side, with Issac, just glaring at Peter.

"I don't need you, in case you forgot that." Peter spat. "I can kill my alpha, restore my life and then kill you like I should have done months ago." Peter growled, getting angry.

"I don't have to play nice." He added, running a hand through his gelled hair.

Derek smirked, watching his uncle invalidate all his plans.

Sensing Peter backing into a corner, Walter slipped _'Linda'_ to Derek quietly, the alpha took the knife by it's hilt, and felt the cool rush of adrenaline coax over his body, easing the fears within his heart.

"I don't need this!" Peter snapped, his eyes quickly shuffling through the dispersing crowd. He saw from the corner of his eyes the two humans walking away, and ran towards them.

"Allison!" Scott screamed, panic in his chest.

The brunette acted immediately. She drew an arrow and released it right into his chest, missing his immortal heart, Stiles stood his ground as well, holding a stake in his hand, just waiting to use it. Peter turned, crying out while attempting to remove the arrow. With the weapon still enlarged within him, he wasted no more time, lunging towards Jackson. Lydia acted out of emotion and threw herself in front of her ex boyfriend, who was frozen to his spot.

"Lydia! No!" Stiles screamed, a sound that sent chills coursing through everyone present.

The raw emotion in his voice ached through the air, stifling his own heart. The way he flew to her, seeing her lying on the ground, bloody and maimed reminded him of winter formal, the first time Peter attacked her. In that moment, Stiles forgot about his own safety, forgot that he was supposed to cover Allison, forgot that she just risked her life for Jackson, and collapsed beside her, taking her in his arms and shaking the girl until he could_ will_ her green eyes to open.

Derek was quick to use the shift in events to make his final and most important move. With the aid of Erica and Issac, he attacked his uncle, proving who was stronger, who was the good in all this evil. He caught him from the back, stabbing Peter through his chest, plunged the special dagger into his heart and watched one of the men he had always respected wither in pain before finally falling still, for eternity. Derek dropped to his knees, staring at Peter. It was his fault, Derek let his guard down, let himself love a man that killed his sister, destroyed any stability he had, and manipulated him for months.

Walter Bishop walked over and gingerly, with the help of Boyd, carried the very brave Natasha Reeves back to the Hale house. Scott was fumbling with his cell phone, his hands shaking, physically feeling the pain his best friend was going through hurt him too much to concentrate.

"Mom?" He whimpered, finally getting a hold of the only person he knew could help.

"Scott? What's wrong!" She demanded.  
"Mom, Lydia was attacked, again. We're bringing her in, I need you!" He stated winded.

"Hurry, Scott!" She hung up.

Allison was trying to pull Stiles away long enough to carry Lydia to her car, but the teenager wouldn't move. He cried into the soft material of the strawberry blondes shirt, screaming at her inside his head, as his head screamed back that he was too late. Jackson ignored the cold looks from Issac and Erica and pushed Stiles roughly, picking up his ex girlfriend, the girl who just saved his and everyone's lives, and let Allison lead the way out of the dark.

Scott nodded at Issac and Erica and tugged on Stiles' sleeve, pulling him out of the woods and towards the jeep. He let Stiles hand the keys over slowly, and waited until his best friend was secure in the passenger seat before driving through town, towards the hospital.

Stiles sat staring off into the oblivion that his life had succumbed to. The room smelt distantly of bleach, the excess of machines making all kinds of noise that Stiles wasn't sure anyone could sleep through, even if they were unconscious. He had the nauseating parallel of the last time Lydia was laying helpless in a hospital bed, looking just as pale, just as breathtakingly beautiful, and just as in love with the wrong guy.

He wasn't sure how it was possible to hate someone and love them in such equal amounts, but he was sure he was about to find out. He was such an ass to her. He let her go because of his own insecurities, didn't want to come second to Jackson again, so he took himself out of a situation that would lead him there. But this wasn't the path he was expecting. Peter was dead, they should be celebrating with his dad's best whiskey, laughing about their summer gone astray and chatting excitedly about the upcoming school year. But Stiles sat in the uncomfortable chair at the foot of Lydia Martin's bed and watched intently as her condition remained stagnate.

Being here, after it was all over, good trumping evil, made him reevaluate himself and prove that this is where he was meant to be. He regretted that he lost that for a short while, let his hatred and self loathing shield that and didn't know what he would have done if he wasn't there when Lydia was hurt in the first place. He couldn't even think of it.

Jackson hadn't come to check on Lydia, and if he had, Stiles wasn't around to see it. He hated Jackson more than he hated himself for letting this happen. Scott tried to talk reason into Stiles, make his best friend feel better, that there wasn't anything else he could have done, but Stiles wouldn't listen. His mind flashed back to that night, to the cold look of fear in both Jackson and Lydia's eyes, and how her courage and love for that boy defeated the darkest evil he was sure they'd encounter.

What annoyed Stiles the most, was that he couldn't blame Jackson for his fear. If a dangerous immortal werewolf spent months hatching a plan to kill him, Stiles was sure he'd act the same way as Jackson Whittemore. Stiles watched Lydia's chest rise and fall so delicately, he was afraid any sudden movement might cause a disastrous reaction to the peace. Stiles also concluded that if he had been in Jackson's place the previous night, he wouldn't have had someone to step in front of him, like Jackson had.

Mrs. McCall reassured Stiles that Lydia was fine, that her immunity was her greatest defense, and she would wake up in her own time. Stiles felt no comfort from that. His father had come to check on him while at the hospital to look further into those sporadic murders he knew nothing about for so long. Stiles wanted to tell him everything, he was sick of holding it all in, scared for his fathers life. Looking at Lydia back in a hospital bed, wires streaming in and out of her gave him all the more avail to come clean. But Stiles always shied away, because he couldn't take away that look of courage in his fathers eyes. He refused to be the one to replace that look with constant, bone chilling fear.

Allison had come by with flowers and sat with Lydia when her parents weren't around so Stiles could change clothes or get something to eat. He brought his friend back coffee and the two would sit and laugh, talking about Lydia and what would happen now. Allison confessed to Stiles that the strawberry blonde was at odds with herself over her feelings for him, that she didn't know what she wanted, and though it was to satisfy his wondering mind, all it did was make Stiles relive Lydia saving Jackson's life.

A love like that was far too strong for a schoolboy crush. Lydia was everything to Jackson, and Stiles knew he couldn't compete.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you everyone who stuck with this story, and was so supportive and lovely. **

**I hope everyone is satisfied with the ending, I didn't want to push it longer than needed, and I am terribly good at leaving things up in the air... **

**-ris. **

Lydia was jolted awake as another crash of thunder rippled through the town. It was dark and fuzzy in the hospital room, the single window opened to revile thousands of tiny droplets on the glass, imprisoning her. The beeping became more clear as her long lashes batted away the last of her drowsiness. Looking around, she spotted several vases filled with flowers, the thick petals full bloom, oranges, yellows, pinks, and whites arranged absentmindedly for her sentiment. Lydia's small smile vanished, remembering why she was in Beacon Hills hospital, again. She remembered Peter Hale's dark eyes so primitive and lethal, coming for Jackson.

Her throat burned and her eyes stung. Was he okay? Did he leave? Where was he? Lydia's quick mind started to slowly piece together what she could remember, but the sensation of her racing heart was making it difficult to concentrate. Her now alert green eyes spotted a pitcher of water, and she struggled to sit up properly to get to it. She suddenly became very aware of something warm and heavy on her legs and she looked down in immediate alarm.

Any trace of vulnerability vanished when her eyes found a sleeping Stiles at the foot of her bed. His back was hunched in an uncomfortable position half on the metal chair. His lips pouted like a child, wide open and drowsy. Lydia wasn't even surprised to see him there, and it was a comforting thought, knowing that he had probably talked his way into staying the night. She shook the leg his arm was resting on, his head cushioned on the scratchy material blanketed over Lydia. He blinked rapidly, and rubbed his eyes. It seemed to take him a minute to realize where he was too, and once he did, his eyes found hers urgently.

"You're okay!" His voice was hoarse, mixed with relief and sleep.

"What happened?" Lydia asked cautiously. Her sharp eyes gauging his reaction.

Stiles let out a groan while stretching his back. "Everything's okay, Derek killed Peter. For good this time."

"I think. " The teenage boy added half sarcastic with a yawn.

Lydia shrugged into the pillows, overlooking his tease. "Is anyone hurt?"

Stiles bit his cheek, "You mean Jackson? Yeah, he's fine." Stiles rolled his eyes.

Lydia smiled, her whole body seemed to relax immediately. It was hard for Stiles to ignore.

"You almost died by the way, just in case you care."

Lydia looked at the boy in front of her. "Oh.."

"Yeah, do you know how stupid that was? Jumping in front of Jackson? Really Lydia?"

She looked away from him, "Peter was going to kill him, I had to do something."

"But you could have _died_." Stiles stated slowly, anger coursing through him, the assurance of her health a comfort. He had the chance to yell at her, and it made Stiles' need to spell it out all the more paramount.

The strawberry blonde could do nothing but look at him. He'd never understand, she was immune, she couldn't be harmed by a bite, she was fine. Stiles was stubborn, angry that she would do anything in her power to save someone he hated. Lydia didn't know if it was an ego thing, or just a Stiles thing, but it wasn't going to guilt trip her. She didn't regret it. She'd spend a week in the hospital, as long as someone she loved was safe.

"Why are you here, Stiles?" She asked severely. "Because clearly you're pissed at me for caring about someone."

"Not someone, Lydia. Jackson. When are you going to see he isn't a good guy?"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "He is, he just doesn't know how to express himself. Completely unlike someone I know who lets his jealousy sabotage everything else."

Stiles scoffed at her. "I'm not jealous."

Lydia rose a brow. "Why'd you break it off with me in the first place?"

Stiles' frown deepened. "Please stop acting like you really cared."

"I did!" Lydia snapped. Stiles winced at how angry she was. "I _do_ care, Stiles."

Stiles Stilinski looked at Lydia Martin, really looked at her. Not as the girl he had loved since the dawn of time, but as a woman, an independent and brilliant person who wasn't going to be tied down to Beacon Hills forever, someone who was going to make something spectacular of herself. She was the smartest person he knew, and yet, she was too dense to see it.

"Lydia, you're in that bed because you risked your life and abused an abnormality for the sake of some guy you dated. You love him, and I can't compete. I made the choice easier for you, and you took it. You two belong together. So don't sit there and yell at me because of your bruised ego. We would have never worked out."

Lydia frowned. Another rumble of thunder was heard in the distance, bouncing off the mountains, darkening the small town. Stiles was making sense, she knew he was, but it didn't stop her from feeling terrible about it. If they were so wrong for each other, than why did Stiles have so much faith? Why did he continue to love her knowing it was doomed from the start? Social class had nothing to do with it, and he knew it.

"What is this really about?" She whispered, reaching across the stale blue quilt for his hand.

Their fingers touched and it enlivened the fire in Lydia's veins. His tawny colored eyes stared deep into hers for a moment.

"You don't know anything about me." Stiles admitted sheepishly.

"How can you like me, and know nothing about me? Or is that the point, Lydia? If you get to know me, you're not going to like me. I'm not like you, and for so long I thought that was what I needed, someone stronger than me, someone fearless and courageous-" Stiles paused.

Lydia's smaller hand came to rest inside his larger palm. He looked down at their hands, it didn't feel wrong, but it was still a long way from feeling right.

"You're all those things without me, Stiles." Lydia whispered.

The rain was picking up outside the window it was getting hard to hear her.

"And I'm sorry that I am screwing up all your plans.. but I couldn't let Jackson die. I know deep down, you wouldn't let him either."

Lydia gave Stiles a challenging look, daring to prove her wrong. The green brightened when his frown only seemed to widen. She was right. Jackson wasn't innocent, he was a complete ass, but he didn't deserve to die, and he knew if it wasn't Lydia, someone else would risk their life for him, because that's who Jackson was. Stiles couldn't help but wonder if he was worth all the trouble. If the situation was reversed, would anyone run to rescue him, would Lydia? He couldn't meet her eye, the weight of the question in his throat. He didn't want her answer.

"Besides, Stiles," Lydia spoke up again, clearing the boys head.

"You don't have to know everything about a person to like them. Sometimes it's liking them that makes you want to know more."

Stiles grinned at her. She wasn't looking at him, but that was okay. He found it was harder for Lydia to speak the truth while looking someone directly in the eyes, because that meant everything. She would when she was ready, and they seemed to have plenty of time.

Lydia was discharged from the hospital a day later, nothing significantly wrong with her. Mrs. McCall had explained to Lydia's mother that she had suffered from dehydration, and that she would be fine. It was a lie, but one Lydia Martin was thankful for. She knew Stiles had to have something to do with it, knowing how much of a worrier her mother was.

After their talk in her hospital room, things changed for Lydia. It was like she was seeing everything clearly. Jackson hadn't come to visit her, and after only being in the hospital for saving _his_ life, it made her more angry that she had ever been at her ex boyfriend. He asked her to meet for lunch, at a small bistro in town, Lydia knew the whole drive over that he could only have bad news, that he wouldn't have asked her on a lunch date after all that had happened if it wasn't for something serious.

"I came clean, figured lying to my parents was stupid."

Lydia's eyes widened in surprised. "You told them, everything?"

Everything." Jackson nodded. "My mom practically fainted when I turned for her." He grinned.

Lydia shook her head. "Why would you do that?"

"I needed to show them, so I can leave, go back to the pack, be the better me."

The strawberry blonde frowned. "So you're really leaving?"

"I have to Lydia, I'm sorry." Jackson reached across the table and grabbed her hand.

"And I'm sorry for not coming to the hospital. I just didn't know how to face you, knowing that it's goodbye, after what you just did for me, it made me sick."

Lydia closed her eyes. She was mad at him. She had to told onto that. Letting him leave, when she was mad was easier. It wouldn't hurt, until later. She nodded sternly at her ex boyfriend, the boy who opened so many doors for her. She would never be able to find a way to thank him, for granting her so many perfect teenage experiences. He wasn't just some boy she dated in high school, Jackson was her first love, and to many people that wasn't much, but to a hopeless romantic like Lydia Martin, it was something she would cherish.

"I was mad at you." She laughed through the start of her tears.

"Come on, Stilinski took good care of you, didn't he?" Jackson asked with a ghost of a smile.

Lydia automatically smiled. "Yeah, he was great."

"You two are good for each other. He's way better boyfriend material than I ever was."

The red head shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Stiles and I aren't together, Jackson."

Jackson's blue eyes held knowledge, something Lydia never noticed before. "Not yet."

"You know?" She whispered.

"You were never good at hiding anything from me." The teen heartthrob winked.

Jackson swore he saw Lydia blush.

"I'm going to take it slow this time. Really appreciate someone."

Jackson squeezed his ex's hand, "That sounds smart."

Maybe letting him go wouldn't be that bad. Maybe this truly was the best option for Jackson. Maybe he could come back, a transformed individual and get the approval of everyone he's ever wronged. It was a tasteful theory, one that Lydia wasn't sure would ever actually happen, but she was destined to find out. Her thoughts drifted back to Stiles during their last lunch, Jackson gave them his blessing, she wondered how the sheriff's son would take that information. Would it make him like Jackson more? Lydia didn't know why she cared so much, she knew they were enemies, and if Jackson wasn't trying to change, then they'd still be at each others throats. But having her ex boyfriends approval of a new guy in her life was bittersweet, and still not knowing where her and Stiles stood just made things messier.

But Lydia supposed that was the simplicity of being a teenager. That without all the supernatural occurrences that she and her friends were drowning in, having a problem like that, was what was going to keep her sane, in the most underrated way. She did like Stiles, and she did like Jackson; and maybe that wasn't going to make things any easier, but it was what she knew, and she had accepted it. Now, she just needed to wait and see what life was planning to do about it.

"Scott's told me that Derek's not doing too well." Allison sighed while sipping her coffee.

Stiles nodded, "Yeah, he's mentioned that to me too. But what do you expect, he had to murder his deranged uncle, _twice_. That would screw up anyone."

Stiles came to sit across from his friend, the girl that he didn't think he would have been able to get through the summer without.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked in an interested tone.

She made a point to arch a brow for affect. Stiles grinned at her.

"Just thinking of all the good times we had this summer. You know, despite all the relationship drama and werewolf drama, we make a pretty good team."

Allison nodded while placing down her cup. "I agree."

Stiles grinned and extended his fist, for her to pound. He had been trying for weeks to get her to create a secret handshake, explaining that all _true_ friendships had one, but the best he could do was this.

Allison rolled her eyes and sighed, meeting his awaiting hand. "I can't believe we start school on Monday."

The boy across from her frowned. "It was hard juggling the werewolf drama with a free schedule, now it's just going to be a nightmare. Between school and work, I don't know when we're going to have time for this."

Allison's nose crinkled. _"Work?"_

Stiles cracked a smile. "Surprise!"

He sang. "Someone bought Jo's cafe, and guess who's the first new employee?"

Allison laughed. "Stiles, that's great!" She jumped up to hug him. "You're going to give me the friend discount right?"

Stiles hugged her back. "We'll see."

It was close to an hour later when Stiles finally left. Scott promising to ground balls with him on the lacrosse field. Hell week started that next morning. On his way out the door, the teens were surprised to find Walter Bishop mid knock.

"Mr. Bishop, hi!" Allison smiled, surprised.

"Hello Allison, Stiles." The elder man nodded, cheerfully.

"How is Ms. Reeves?" Stiles inquired.

"Better, thank you. We're leaving in an hour."

Stiles smiled. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for everything."

Stiles shook the mans hand, and jogged down Allison's driveway. Turning slightly at the edge of the street to grant Allison a confused expression. She returned it while letting the man inside.

* * *

"Ready?" Scott whispered, breathlessly to his best friend.

"Ready." Stiles grinned, rolling the smooth rock over in his hand.

The teenage boys tossed their rocks up, both hitting the window above lightly. It was around ten thirty, the eve of the first day of school, their last night of freedom. A light flashed on, and two faces loomed in the window.

"What the hell are you doing?" One voice called, clearly unamused.

"Wanna do something?" Scott answered lamely.

"Be right down!" A softer voice smiled, dashing away from the window.

The other followed sluggishly.

"This better be good." Lydia threatened, arms crossed.

There was a gleam of excitement in her green eyes, but Stiles wouldn't blow her facade.

"Where to?" Allison asked, grabbing Scott's arm.

Stiles and Lydia gave each other pointed looks. Everyone knew those two wouldn't be able to stay away from each other long, something about them together was just right.

"It's a surprise." Stiles grinned, motioning for everyone to pile into his jeep.

The group parked in the empty lot, Allison immediately laughed, remembering a distant night here. Stiles led the way, unlocking the doors and flashing on the bright lights.

"How'd you get the keys this time?" Lydia questioned with a smirk.

"This time," Stiles sighed contently, "It was out of the goodness of Boyd's heart."

Lydia rolled her eyes and made her way behind the counter to find a pair of skates.

"Scott! _Scott! _Listen to me, that's not the way to do it. You're just going to fall!" Lydia chided.

She was getting frustrated with the teen wolf, regretting to show him a few pointers so that Allison could skate.

Stiles chuckled from the other side of the rink, gliding alongside Allison.

"So, I never got a chance to ask, what did Walter Bishop want that day?"

Allison hugged her cardigan closer to her chest and sighed, her breath clouding before her.

"He gave me information on my grandfather." She whispered gently.

"What?" Stiles gaped at her.

Allison nodded. "Mr. Bishop isn't convinced that he's dead, and left me a folder on how to track him."

Stiles whistled. "That's insane."

"Know the strangest part?" She asked, skating a little closer to him.

"Huh?"

"Dr. Deaton's in it. I think he might be a member."

Allison and Stiles looked at each other, smiling. There was still so much they needed to find out. But looking at their friends, remembering that their junior year started the next day, everything else seemed less important, that for once, in a long time, they could just focus on themselves, and their _other_ lives, the ones that the rest of the world was seeing, not the secret ones that consumed them.

"I'm gonna go save Lydia." Allison winked at Stiles and pushed away from him.

Stiles laughed to himself as Lydia rolled towards him, a finger rubbing her temple.

"He is impossible." She breathed.

Stiles sighed and took her hand. Lydia looked up and smiled.

They weren't together, not yet. They were still learning about each other, finding out the little things to get under the skin, creating bridges, connections, a stronger bond that Stiles ever believed possible with another person. They were more alike that either wanted to admit. But there was no pressure anymore. Jackson had been gone for a week now, Lydia's attention was solely for Stiles and it thrilled him.

He felt the strawberry blonde tug on his hand, pulling them from the cold rink towards the flashing photo booth. He started to groan.  
"It has just occurred to me that I don't have a single picture of us for my summer scrapbook."

Lydia grinned innocently at the boy.

Stiles frowned, remembering how she forced him to help her with it only days ago.

"I don't know.."

"Oh, come on, Stiles!" She snapped dragging him inside.

Allison had showed her the pictures she had with Scott, the ones that his eyes ruined. She wanted something cheesy like that. Lydia pressed start and nudged Stiles in the side to smile. As the countdown slowly flashed across the screen, Lydia's heart raced. She leaned in slightly, at the exact moment Stiles had, and their lips connected with the flash on the camera.

The girl laughed, shocked that Stiles attempted to make a first move, shocked that they were thinking the same thing. Stiles licked his lips, and leaned in again, kissing her softly.

No, they weren't a couple, and Stiles wasn't sure if they'd ever be. No matter if they were destined for something more, or to just be the best of friends, Stiles knew that he'd always be there, and she would always have him. He pushed past all the uncertainty that their junior year held, all the monsters they would face, and SAT prep classes, and college hunting. He ignored the possibility of new romances and petty drama, or life threatening situations. He wasn't sure what was in store for him and Lydia, but knowing that she was in his life, soothed the distant panic of the future.

From that mild night in May, until that first day of September, Stiles was looking for answers, he was looking for an escape, and without knowing it then, he was always looking for Lydia. No matter how bad things got that summer, or what they faced, she was his constant, that one thing he could never let go of. Because, Lydia Martin was one of those people that you _can't_ let go of. It took him a summer to realize it was pointless, and it would take him a lifetime to see that it was ultimately worth it.


End file.
